BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

4- 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


Nine  Thousand  Miles 
On  A  Pullman  Train 


AN   ACCOUNT 

OF  A 

Tour  of  Railroad  Conductors 
FROM  PHILADELPHIA 

TO  THE 

PACIFIC  COAST  AND  RETURN 
BY  M.  M.  SHAW 


PHILADELPHIA 

ALLEN,  LANE  &  SCOTT,  PRINTERS  AND  PUBLISHERS 

Nos.  1211-13  Clover  Street 

1898 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1898, 

BY  M.  M.  SHAW, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


o 
!/ NO  RO 


TO   THE  TRUE   AND  LOYAL  WOMEN 

OF  OUR  PARTY, 
THE   BELOVED  AND   CHERISHED  COMPANIONS 

OF  OUR   HEARTHS  AND   HOMES, 
THIS    BOOK   IS    AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED. 


V'KAJHIU   1  ^0  JVC) MA 


INDEX  TO  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


M.  M.  Shaw • Frontispiece. 

George  W.  Boyd,  Assistant  General  Passenger  Agent, 

Pennsylvania  Railroad Face  page    6 

Broad  Street  Station,  Philadelphia "  12 

A  Pullman  Dining  Car "  16 

C.  E.  Wyman,  Chairman  of  the  Committee "  18 

A  Pullman  Sleeping  Car "  22 

Sang  Hollow  on  the  Conemaugh,  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  "  28 

At  Effingham,  Illinois "  34 

Leaving  Longview  Junction,  Texas "  34 

At  Fort  Worth,  Texas "  36 

O.  H.  Bacon,  Conductor  Texas  and  Pacific  Railway     .   .  "  38 

A  Group  at  Van  Horn,  Texas "  40 

Tom  McDonald  and  Fred  Beach "  40 

Myrtle  Taylor  on  a  Bronco "  42 

Residence  of  Jacob  Hand,  Sierra  Blanca,  Texas    ....  "  42 

Flooded  District,  Alfalfa,  Texas "  52 

Wrecked  by  Train  Robbers  on  Southern  Pacific  Railway,  "  52 

William  J.  Maxwell,  of  the  Committee "  56 

Col.  Si  Ryan "  60 

Arizona  Landscape "  66 

"  Yuma  Bill,"  Indian  Chief  at  Yuma,  over  100  years  old,  "  66 

The  California  Poppy "  68 

A  Cluster  of  Navel  Oranges,  California "  72 

Winter  in  Southern  California "  74 

Brookside  Avenue,  Redlands,  California "  76 

San  Gabriel  Mission,  California "  78 

Giant  Palms  on  the  road  to  San  Gabriel "  78 

An  Avenue  in  Pasadena,  California "  80 

Great  Cable  Incline,  Mt.  Lowe  Railway "  82 

Echo  Mountain  House  and  Car  on  the  48  Per  Cent.  Grade, 

Mt.  Lowe  Railway 84 

Mt.  Lowe  Railway,  California "  86 

Circular  Bridge,  Mt.  Lowe  Railway,  California "  88 

Ye  Alpine  Tavern,  Mt.  Lowe,  California "  90 

T.  S.  C.  Lowe "  92 

George  W.  Brown,  of  the  Committee "  98 

New  Cliff  House  and  Seal  Rocks,  San  Francisco,  Cal.    .  "  102 

Parapet,  Sutro  Heights,  San  Francisco,  Cal "  104 


INDEX   TO    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

John  H.  Reagan,  of  the  Committee Face  page  112 

Hercules'  Pillars,  Columbia  River,  Oregon "  120 

The  Columbia  River "  124 

J.  P.  O'Brien,  Superintendent  Rail  Lines,-  Oregon  Rail- 
road and  Navigation  Company "  126 

Mt.  Adams,  Washington "  128 

Mt.  St.  Helens,  from  Portland,  Oregon "  128 

Multnomah  Falls,  Oregon "  130 

Along  the  Columbia  River "  132 

C  Street,  Tacoma,  Washington "  134 

Bridge,  Point  Defiance  Park,  Tacoma,  Washington  ...  "  134 

Latourelle  Falls,  Oregon "  136 

The  Hobo  Passenger "  138 

Crossing  Columbia  River  on  the  "Tacoma" "  138 

Elevator  A,  Tacoma,  Washington "  140 

Shore  of  Lake  Pend  d'Oreille  at  Hope,  Idaho     ....  "  140 

Spokane  Falls,  Spokane,  Washington "  142 

Spokane,  Washington "  142 

W.  B.  Hale,  Conductor  Northern  Pacific  Railway  .   ...  "  144 

"  Dan,"  Salt  Lake  City  Railroad  Station,  Utah    ....  "  154 

Grave  of  Brigham  Young,  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah    ....  "  154 

The  Mormon  Temple  and  Square,  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah,  "  160 

Chas.  E.  Hooper,  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad,  "  166 

Bathing  Pool  at  Glen  wood  Springs,  Colorado "  168 

In  the  Pool  at  Glenwood  Springs "  168 

Walter  W.  Terry,  of  the  Committee "  174 

Colonel  and  Mrs.  Mitchell  at  Marshall  Pass "  178 

The  "Committee"  at  Marshall  Pass "  178 

The  Royal  Gorge  and  the  Hanging  Bridge,  Grand  Canon 

of  the  Arkansas "  182 

Ascent  of  Pike's  Peak  by  Manitou  and  Pike's  Peak  Rail- 
road (cog  wheel) "  184 

Gateway  to  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,   Colorado ;  Pike's 

Peak  in  the  Distance "  186 

On  Pike's  Peak— Altitude,  14,147  feet "  188 

Bride  and  Groom  at  Balance  Rock,  Garden  of  the  Gods, 

Colorado "  190 

Manitou  Springs,  Colorado "  192 

Bachelors  and  Burros  in  the  Garden  of  the  Gods  ...  "  196 
"  Who  are  we  ?  Who  are  we  ?    P.  P.  C.  !    Cooks,  Waiters, 

and  Porters  of  the  O.  R.  C. !" "  202 

The  "232."    McCook,  Nebraska .  "  202 


INTRODUCTION. 


THE  writer  is  not  sure  that  this  work  will  give  satis- 
tion  to  his  many  friends  who  have  asked  for  it;  the  ex- 
perience of  one  is  not  the  experience  of  all,  and  many 
incidents  will  be  remembered,  undoubtedly,  by  different 
members  of  the  party  that  are  not  mentioned  in  these 
pages,  from  the  fact  that  they  are  unknown  to  the 
narrator,  not  having  come  under  his  observation.  The 
difficulty  lies  in  producing  an  account  of  our  trip  from 
personal  notes  that  will  meet  the  expectation  of  all.  The 
chief  object  of  this  book  is  to  furnish  interesting  in- 
formation relative  to  the  party's  whereabouts  from  day 
to  day,  giving  the  names  of  many  kind  friends  who  did 
so  much  toward  making  cur  journey  an  interesting  and 
happy  one,  and  who  will  ever  be  remembered  with  feel- 
ings of  the  highest  regard  by  each  member  of  the  party. 
The  writer  has  no  apology  to  offer  to  critics.  Geo- 
graphical inaccuracies  and  grammatical  inconsistencies 
can  either  be  accepted  or  overlooked,  at  the  pleasure  of 
the  reader,  whom  the  author  hopes  will  be  charitable 
enough  to  believe  that  he  believes  what  he  has  written, 
whether  it  is  true  or  not. 

(3) 


4  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

Shortly  after  the  meeting  of  the  twenty-fifth  session  of 
the  Grand  Division  of  the  Order  of  Railway  Conductors 
at  Atlanta,  Ga.,  in  May,  1895,  a  few  of  the  Pennsylvania 
Railroad  conductors  running  into  Broad  Street  Station, 
Philadelphia,  got  together  and  started  a  movement  to- 
ward the  organization  of  a  party  to  visit  the  twenty-sixth 
session,  in  Los  Angeles,  Cal.,  in  May,  1897.  Mr.  Chas. 
E.  Wyman  was  chosen  president  and  manager  and  Mr. 
Wm.  J.  Maxwell  secretary  and  treasurer  of  the  club. 
It  was  known  as  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Conductors' 
Excursion.  Meetings  were  held  from  time  to  time  to 
complete  the  organization,  formulate  plans,  and  perfect 
arrangements,  and  George  H.  Holgate,  Esq.,  president 
of  the  Association  of  American  Inventors,  kindly  gave 
the  use  of  his  large,  comfortable  office  in  the  Betz  Build- 
ing, on  Broad  Street,  Philadelphia,  for  this  purpose.  A 
friend  of  Manager  Wyman  designed  an  unique  and 
handsome  card,  which  was  submitted  to  Stephen  Greene, 
Esq.,  who  lithographed  and  printed  several  thousand 
and  generously  presented  them  to  the  excursion.  The 
committee  called  at  th%  clothing  establishment  of  Wana- 
maker  &  Brown,  Sixth  and  Market  Streets,  to  purchase 
tourist  caps  for  use  of  the  party  on  the  trip,  and  were 
liberally  provided  with  all  they  wanted,  free  of  cost,  by 
the  kind  and  generous  members  of  the  firm.  The  officials 
of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  looked  with  favor  upon  the 
scheme,  and  it  was  largely  due  to  their  kindly  efforts  and 
influence  that  the  excursion  was  such  a  grand  success. 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  5 

Mr.  George  W.  Boyd,  Assistant  General  Passenger 
Agent,  interested  himself  greatly  in  our  trip,  and  under 
his  direction  the  Tourist  Department  outlined  and  ar- 
ranged the  itinerary,  which  was  printed  in  neat  form  and 
presented  to  the  party  by  Allen,  Lane  &  Scott.  This 
itinerary  is  published  in  these  pages  in  its  original  form, 
and  while  the  route  was  adhered  to  it  will  be  noticed  we 
ran  about  three  days  late,  delayed  by  a  washout  east  of 
El  Paso. 

Many  of  the  illustrations  in  this  book  were  prepared 
from  photographs  taken  by  members  of  the  party,  also 
from  photographs  kindly  presented  to  the  author  by 
Prof.  T.  S.  C.  Lowe.  We  are  also  indebted  to  the 
Oregon  Railroad  and  Navigation  Company,  Northern 
Pacific  Railway  Company,  and  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Railroad  Company  for  illustrations  of  scenery  along  their 
lines. 

Our  treatment  by  officers  of  the  Pullman  Company 
was  extremely  satisfactory,  their  generosity  being  highly 
appreciated.  To  one  and  all  of  these  gentlemen  who  so 
kindly  contributed  toward  our  happiness  and  pleasure 
the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Conductors'  Excursion  gives, 
through  the  writer,  a  rousing  vote  of  thanks. 

M.  M.  S. 


GEO.  W.    BOYD,    ASSISTANT   GENERAL   PASSENGER   AGENT, 
PENNSYLVANIA   RAILROAD   COMPANY. 


DETAILED  TIME-TABLE  AND  CONDENSED 
ITINERARY 

OF   THE 

PENNSYLVANIA    RAILROAD    CONDUCTORS'  TOUR 
TO  THE  GOLDEN   GATE. 


Miles  SATURDAY,  MAY  8,  1897. 

from 
Philad'a.  Via  Pennsylvania  Railroad. 

Lv.  Philadelphia,  Pa (Eastern  time]  10.30  A.M. 

354    Ar.  Pittsburgh,  Pa "  8.15  P.  M. 

"    Pittsburgh,  Pa (Central  time)    7.15    " 

Via  Pennsylvania  Lines. 

Lv.  Pittsburgh,  Pa "  7.30    " 

SUNDAY,  MAY  9,  1897. 

Via  Pennsylvania  Lines. 

728    Ar.  Indianapolis,  Ind.  .   ...   .  ( Central  time)    7.00  A.  M. 

Via  Vandalia  Line. 

Lv.  Indianapolis,  Ind 7.10    " 

968    Ar.  St.  Louis,  Mo "  1.40  P.  M. 

Via  St.  Louis,  Iron  Mountain  &  Southern  Railway. 

Lv.  St.  Louis,  Mo (Central  time)    8.15    " 

MONDAY,   MAY  10,   1897. 

Via  St.  Louis,  Iron  Mountain  &  Southern  Railway. 

1313    Ar.  Little  Rock,  Ark (Central  lime)    7.10  A.M. 

1458      "    Texarkana,  Tex "  12.35  p.  M. 

Via  Texas  &  Pacific  Railway. 

Lv.  Texarkana,  Tex "  1.05     " 

1711    Ar.  Fort  Worth,  Tex "  9.24    " 

TUESDAY,  MAY  n,  1897. 

Via  Texas  &  Pacific  Railway. 

2326    Ar.  El  Paso,  Tex (Central  time)    9.25    " 

(At  El  Paso  Central  time  changes  to  Pacific  time, 
two  hours  slower.) 

(7) 


8  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 


Miles  WEDNESDAY,  MAY  12,  1897. 

from 
Philad'a.  Via  Southern  Pacific  Company. 

Lv.  El  Paso,  Tex (Pacific   time}    8.00  A.  M. 

2414    Ar.  Deming,  N.  M "  n.oo    " 

2638      "    Tucson,  N.  M "  7.00  p.  M. 

THURSDAY,  MAY  13,  1897. 

•  Via  Southern  Pacific  Company. 

3008    Ar.  Indio,  Cal (Pacific  time]    7.00  A.  M. 

3138      "    Los  Angeles,  Cal "  12.00  NOON. 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 

MONDAY,  MAY  17,  1897. 

Via  Southern  Pacific  Company. 

3138    Lv.  Los  Angeles,  Cal (Pacific  time]    2.00  p.  M. 

TUESDAY,  MAY  18,  1897. 

Via  Southern  Pacific  Company. 

3585    Ar.  San  Francisco,  Cal (Pacific  time]  10.00  A.  M. 

THURSDAY,   MAY  20,  1897. 

Via  Southern  Pacific  Company. 

Lv.  San  Francisco,  Cal (Pacific   time}    7.00  p.  M. 

SATURDAY,  MAY  22,  1897. 

Via  Southern  Pacific  Company. 

4357    Ar.  Portland,  Ore (Pacific  time]    7.00  A.  M. 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 

SUNDAY,  MAY  23,  1897. 

Via  Northern  Pacific  Railway. 

Lv.  Portland,  Ore (Pacific  time}    8.45  A.  M. 

4501    Ar.  Tacoma,  Wash "  2.00  p.  M. 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 

Lv.  Tacoma,  Wash "  10.30    " 

(At  Hope  Pacific  time  changes  to  Mountain  time, 

one  hour  faster.) 
Stop  at  Spokane  two  hours. 

TUESDAY,  MAY  25,  1897. 

Via  Northern  Pacific  Railway. 

5283    Ar.  Helena,  Mont (Mountain  time}    7.00  A.  M. 

Via  Great  Northern  Railway. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  9 

Miles 

from 

Philad'a. 

Lv.  Helena,  Mont (Mountain  time]  12.00  NOON. 

5355    Ar.  Butte,  Mont "  3.00  P.  M. 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 

Via  Montana  Union  Railway. 

Lv.  Butte,  Mont "  10.00    " 

5362    Ar.  Silver  Bow,  Mont 10.20    " 

Via  Oregon  Short  Line  Railroad. 

Lv.  Silver  Bow,  Mont (Mountain  time}  10.30    " 

WEDNESDAY,  MAY  26,  1897. 

Via  Ogden  Short  Line  Railroad. 

5752    Ar.  Ogden,  Utah (Mountain  time}  II.OOA.  M. 

Via  Rio  Grande  Western  Railway. 

Lv.  Ogden,  Utah (Mountain  time}  n.oo    " 

5789    Ar.  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah     .    .  "  12.00  NOON. 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 

THURSDAY,  MAY  27,  1897. 

Via  Rio  Grande  Western  Railway. 

Lv.  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah     .   .  (Mountain  time}    9.00  P.  M. 

FRIDAY,  MAY  28,  1897. 
6080    Ar.  Grand  Junction,  Col.     .   .(Mountain  time}    8.30  A.  M. 

Via  Denver  &  Rio  Grande  Railroad. 

Lv.  Grand  Junction,  Col.  .  .  (Mountain  time}  9.00  " 

6169  Ar.  Glenwood  Springs,  Col.  .  "  12.00  NOON. 

Lv.  Glenwood  Springs,  Col.   .  "  2.00  P.  M. 

Ar.  Minturn,  Col "  4.10  " 

"  Leadville,  Col "  6.00  " 

Lv.  Leadville,  Col "  6.40  " 

6319  Ar.  Salida,  Col "  8.30  " 

SATURDAY,  MAY  29,  1897. 

Via  Denver  &  Rio  Grande  Railroad. 
By  D.  &  R.  G.  special  train. 

Lv.  Salida,  Col (Mountain  time}    8.00  A.  M. 

Ar.  Marshall  Pass,  Col.     ...  "  9.40    " 

Lv.  Marshall  Pass,  Col.  ...  "  10.20  " 

6369  Ar.  Salida,  Col "  12.00  NOON. 

Lv.  Salida,  Col "  i.oo  p.  M. 

Ar.  Royal  Gorge,  Col 2.45  " 

6511  "  Colorado  Springs,  Col.  .  "  6.00  " 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 


IO  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Miles  SUNDAY,  MAY  30,  1897. 

from 
Philad'a.  At  Colorado  Springs  and  Manitou. 

MONDAY,  MAY  31,  1897. 

Via  Denver  &  Rio  Grande  Railroad. 

Lv.  Colorado  Springs,  Col.    .  (Mountain  time}    2.00  A.  M. 

6586    Ar.  Denver,  Col "  6.00    " 

Train  to  be  sidetracked  for  occupancy. 

TUESDAY,  JUNE  i,  1897. 
WEDNESDAY,  JUNE  2,  1897. 

At  Denver. 

THURSDAY,  JUNE  3,  1897. 

Via  Burlington  Route. 

Lv.  Denver,  Col (Mountain  time]  12.01  A.  M. 

(At  McCook,  Neb.,  Mountain  time  changes  to  Central 
time,  one  hour  faster.) 

Ar.  Lincoln,  Neb (Central  time}    3.05    " 

7124      "    Omaha,  Neb "  5.00  P.  M. 

Lv.  Omaha,  Neb "  6.30    " 

FRIDAY,  JUNE  4,  1897. 

Via  Burlington  Route. 

7632    Ar.  Chicago,  111 (Central  time}    9.15  A.  M. 

Via  Pennsylvania  Lines. 

Lv.  Chicago,  111 "  5.40  p.  M. 

SATURDAY,  JUNE  5,  1897. 

Via  Pennsylvania  Lines. 

8100    Ar.  Pittsburg,  Pa (Central  time}    6.10  A.M. 

"    Pittsburg,  Pa (Eastern  time}    7.10    " 

Via  Pennsylvania  Railroad. 

Lv.  Pittsburg,  Pa 7.15     " 

8454      "     Philadelphia,  Pa "  4.20  P.  M. 


ON   A   PULLMAN    TRAIN.  II 


LIST   OF   PASSENGERS. 


MR.  G.  W.  BROWN Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  G.  W.  BROWN 

MR.  P.  J.  BARRETT Bristol,  Pa. 

Miss  ANNA  S.  BARRETT 

MR.  J.  N.  CLIMENSON Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  J.  N.  CLIMENSON " 

MR.  I.  M.  COHEE 

MRS.  I.  M.  COHEE 

MR.  J.  B.  CRISPEN Renovo,  Pa. 

MR.  JAMES  DOUGHERTY Trenton,  N.  J. 

MRS.  J.  DOUGHERTY 

MR.  T.  J.  DENNISTON Jersey  City,  N.  J. 

MR.  G.  W.  DALE Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  G.  W.  DALE 

MR.  R.  T.  ELDER 

MRS.  R.  T.  ELDER 

MR.  R.  J.  FOULON 

MRS.  R.  J.  FOULON 

MR.  C.  E.  FOSTER " 

MRS.  C.  E.  FOSTER 

MR.].  W.  GOFF Camden,  N.J. 

MRS.J.W.  GOFF 

MR.  T.  B.  GILLILAND Harrisburg,  Pa. 

MRS.  T.  B.  GILLILAND 

MR.  M.  M.  HOUSTON Norristown,  Pa. 

MRS.  M.  M.  HOUSTON " 

MR.  W.  A.  HAAS Allegheny  City,  Pa. 

MR.  H.  R.  HAEFNER Columbia,  Pa. 

MRS.  H.  R.  HAEFNER " 

MR.  S.  W.  HORNER Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  S.  W.  HORNER 

MR.  S.  N.  KILGORE 

MRS.  S.  N.  KILGORE " 

MR.  T.  J.  MCKERNAN Jersey  City,  N.  J. 

MRS.  T.J.  MCKERNAN 

MR.  E.  A.  KALKMAN Baltimore,  Md. 

MRS.  E.  A.  KALKMAN 

MR.  HUGH  LEARY Norristown,  Pa. 

MRS.  HUGH  LEARY 

MR.  J.  T.  LAYFIELD Wilmington,  Del. 

MRS.  J.  T.  LAYFIELD 

MR.  J.  M.  MATTHEWS Norristown,  Pa. 

MRS.  J.  M.  MATTHEWS 


12  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 


MR.  W.  J.  MAXWELL Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  W.  J.  MAXWELL " 

MR.  J.  H.  MOORE Manasquan,  N.  J. 

MRS.  J.  H.  MOORE 

MR.  C.  J.  MCCARTY Columbia,  Pa. 

MR.  C.  R.  MATTSON,  M.  D Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  C.  R.  MATTSON " 

MR.  W.  H.  MORRIS Wilmington,  Del. 

MRS.  W.  H.  MORRIS 

MR.  ROLAND  MITCHELL Baltimore,  Md. 

MRS.  ROLAND  MITCHELL " 

MR.  W.  H.  POST Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Miss  ELLA  L.  POST " 

MR.  J.  A.  REILLY " 

MRS.  J.  A.  REILLY 

MR.  J.  H.  REAGAN " 

MR.  J.  J.  RESTEIN Delmar,  Del. 

MR.  C.  L.  SPRINGER Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  C.  L.  SPRINGER " 

MR.  L.  E.  SHEPPARD Camden,  N.  J. 

MRS.  L.  E.  SHEPPARD   .   .   . " 

MR.  M.  M.  SHAW West  Chester,  Pa. 

MRS.  M.  M.  SHAW 

MR.  C.  H.  SLOANE Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MR.  J.  G,  SCHULER Pittsburgh,  Pa. 

MR.  C.  F.  SMITH     .   . York,  Pa. 

MRS.  C.  F.  SMITH  . 

MR.  D.  R.  SPARKS Camden,  N.  J. 

MRS.  D.  R.  SPARKS " 

MR.  W.  W.  TERRY Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MRS.  W.  W.  TERRY 

MR.  H.  H.  TAYLOR Trenton,  N.  J. 

MR.  C.  E.  WADDINGTON Philadelphia,  Pa. 

MR.  OSCAR  WILLIAMS " 

MR.  C.  E.  WYMAN Moores,  Pa. 

MRS.  C.  E.  WYMAN     .       

MR.  H.  L.  WILSON Glassboro,  N.  J. 

MRS.  H.  L.  WILSON  . 


EXECUTIVE  COMMITTEE. 

C.  E.  WYMAN,  President  and  Manager. 

WM.  J.  MAXWELL,  Secretary  and  Treasurer. 

GEORGE  W.  BROWN,  JOHN  H.  REAGAN, 

WALTER  W.  TERRY. 


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BROAD    STREET    STATION,    PHILADELPHIA. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  13 


PENNSYLVANIA  RAILROAD  CONDUCTORS' 
EXCURSION  TO  CALIFORNIA. 


SATURDAY,   MAY    8th,  1897. 

The  hands  on  the  large  clock  that  denotes  the  standard 
time  in  the  great  corridor  of  Broad  Street  Station,  Phila- 
delphia, point  to  the  hour  10  A.  M.;  an  unusual  commo- 
tion is  noticed  in  the  mammoth  train  shed,  which  in  any 
hour  of  the  day  or  night  is  filled  with  trains  loading  and 
discharging  their  cargoes  of  human  freight,  ever  present- 
ing a  scene  of  hustling,  bustling  activity.  The  unusual 
commotion  referred  to  is  caused  by  the  departure  of 
the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Conductors'  Excursion  to  Cali- 
fornia. Fully  one  thousand  friends  and  relatives  have 
gathered  on  the  extensive  train  platform  to  see  them  off ; 
thirty  minutes  of  promiscuous  kissing,  hugging,  tears, 
smiles,  hand  shaking,  and  good-byes,  then  "all  aboard," 
and  at  10.30  A.  M.  the  five-car  vestibule  train  rolls  out 
over  the  elevated  tracks  bound  for  a  journey  of  9,000 
miles.  The  notebook  crank  and  the  kodak  fiend  are 
aboard,  and  it  is  hoped  that  it  will  not  be  regretted  that 
they  have  come.  The  kodak  fiends  are  Bros.  Ed.  Foster, 
Joe  Ristein,  and  Billy  Haas,  who  succeed  in  getting 
some  very  good  snaps  at  the  train  before  starting,  and  the 


14  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

Lord  only  knows  what  else  was  snapped  at,  for  the  snap- 
ping was  kept  up  almost  continually  for  the  next  thirty- 
one  days.  The  notebook  crank  is  the  writer,  who,  with 
the  ever-present  notebook  in  hand,  starts  in  after  the 
train  starts  to  make  an  inventory  of  the  outfit. 

The  first  person  encountered  is  the  good-looking  and 
gentlemanly  train  conductor,  W.  E.  Bostick,  who  volun- 
teers the  information  that  the  train  is  running  as,  second 
No.  25  over  the  Philadelphia  Division,  Philadelphia  to 
Harrisburg;  that  it  gives  him  great  pleasure  to  run  the 
train,  for  he  considers  it  a  mark  of  honor.  We  are 
drawn  by  P.  R.  R.  engine  No.  31,  in  charge  of  Engineer 
J.  Stroh,  and  fired  by  C.  B.  Lewis.  Next  to  the  engine 
is  parlor  combined  car  No.  4808,  with  baggage  end 
loaded  with  sixty-two  pieces  of  baggage,  two  barrels,  and 
thirty-two  cases  of  nourishment,  in  charge  of  George  H. 
Anderson,  the  colored  janitor  of  the  conductors'  room  in 
Broad  Street  Station,  Philadelphia,  who,  because  of  his 
well-known  character  for  faithfulness,  honesty,  and  good 
nature,  is  taken  along,  and  placed  in  the  responsible  posi- 
tion of  baggage  master  and  general  cork  extractor.  The 
smoking  end  of  the  car  is  furnished  with  twelve  movable 
parlor  chairs  and  two  tables,  and  the  floor  is  covered  with 
Brussels  carpet.  The  Pullman  dining  car  "Lafayette," 
in  charge  of  Dining-car  Conductor  Mr.  Tom  McDonald, 
comes  next. 

Introducing  myself  to  Mr.  McDonald,  I  find  him  a 
very  agreeable  gentleman,  who  kindly  gives  me  what  in- 
formation I  want,  also  a  bill  of  fare.  The  latter  makes 
my  mouth  water  in  anticipation  of  what  I  may  expect 
when  the  dinner  hour  arrives.  This  is  what  with  keen 
appreciation  and  fast  increasing  appetite  I  read : — 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  15 

ORDER  OF  RAILWAY  CONDUCTORS'  SPECIAL. 

EN  ROUTE  TO  LOS  ANGELES  AND  RETURN. 

PULLMAN  DINING  CAR  SERVICE. 

May  8th,  1897. 


DINNER. 
Ox  JOINTS.  CONSOMME. 

CUCUMBERS.  OLIVES. 

BOILED  HALIBUT.  EGG  SAUCE. 

PARISIENNE  POTATOES. 

BOILED  LEG  OF  MUTTON.  CAPER  SAUCE. 

APPLE  FRITTERS.  WINE  SAUCE. 

PRIME  ROAST  BEEF. 
ROAST  LONG  ISLAND  SPRING  DUCK.  APPLE  SAUCE. 

MASHED  POTATOES.     BOILED  NEW  POTATOES. 
BOILED  ONIONS.  BEETS.  NEW  GREEN  PEAS. 

TOMATO  SALAD  AU  MAYONNAISE. 
BREAD  PUDDING.  COGNAC  SAUCE. 

ICE  CREAM.       PRESERVED  FRUITS. 
ASSORTED  CAKE.  MARMALADE.          DRY  CANTON  GINGER. 

ENGLISH  AND  GRAHAM  WAFERS.  FRUIT. 

ROQUEFORT  AND  EDAM  CHEESE.          BENT'S  BISCUIT. 
NOIR. 


"Mr.  McDonald,"  says  I,  "I  do  not  doubt  your  ability 
to  feed  us  as  per  bill  of  promise,  but  I  am  curious  to  know 
where  you  keep  all  this  material  and  how  you  prepare  it 
for  the  table?"  "It  is  easily  explained;  I  will  show  you," 
is  the  reply.  "Built  here  in  this  end  of  the  car  is  a  large 
cupboard  refrigerator  in  which  can  be  stored  a  large 
amount  of  stuff,  underneath  the  car  are  two  large  ice 
chests  in  which  can  be  placed  several  hundred  pounds  of 
meat,  and  on  top  of  the  car  you  will  find  a  large  tank  con- 
taining many  gallons  of  water.  In  the  other  end  of  the 
car  you  will  find  the  kitchen,  where  the  victuals  are  pre- 
pared, and  the  sideboard  containing  the  dishes  and  other 


1 6  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

ware  belonging  to  the  dining  car.  If  it  were  necessary 
to  do  so,  we  could  stock  this  car  with  material  enough  at 
one  time  to  last  a  party  of  one  hundred  persons  one  week ; 
but  ordinarily  we  lay  in  but  a  limited  amount,  as  provis- 
ions or  other  material  is  furnished  as  needed  from  the 
Pullman  supply  stations  en  route,  thus  we  can  always 
have  it  good  and  fresh." 

"You  seem  to  have  lots  of  help,"  I  remarked,  as  I 
noticed  nine  or  ten  neat,  gentlemanly-looking  mulattoes 
in  their  snow-white  coats  and  aprons  bustling  about  the 
car. 

"Yes,  I  am  pleased  to  say  that  you  can  expect  ex- 
cellent service  from  the  cooks  and  waiters  in  this  car. 
Mr.  Martin  and  Mr.  Bostwick,  of  the  Pullman  palace  car 
service,  have  kindly  furnished  me  with  men  of  which  it 
can  be  said  there  are  no  better  in  the  service."  "Can  you 
give  me  their  names?"  "Certainly;  the  cooks  are:  Chief, 
R.  W.  Moore;  assistants,  H.  F.  Robinson,  T.  Allen,  F.  L. 
Litt;  waiters,  W.  Hill,  A.  Beard,  O.  Fisher,  C.  Coleman, 
C.  Jackson.  We  have  ten  tables  in  the  car,  each  table 
seats  four,  which  enables  us  to  accommodate  forty  per- 
sons at  a  time.  Each  waiter  has  been  assigned  his  place, 
knows  just  what  he  has  to  do,  and  while  there  may  at 
times  be  a  little  delay  in  filling  orders,  there  is  never  any 
confusion." 

"There  is  another  thing,"  continues  Mr.  McDonald, 
"which  no  doubt  you  will  notice,  and  that  is  our  strict 
adherence  to  the  law  of  cleanliness.  If  there  is  one  rule 
of  the  dining-car  service  more  imperative  than  another, 
it  is  the  one  that  declares  that  everything  must  be  clean. 
The  coats  and  aprons  of  the  waiters  must  be  pure  and 
spotless  as  an  angel's  robe,  napkins  and  table  linen  must 


A   PULLMAN   DINING   CAR. 


ON  A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  17 

never  be  used  the  second  time,  no  matter  how  little 
soiled.  This  is  a  rule  that  at  all  times  must  be  rigidly 
enforced,  and  it  would  cost  me  my  situation  to  allow  it 
to  be  violated." 

Thanking  Mr.  McDonald  for  his  kind  information,  I 
turn  my  back  on  the  "Lafayette"  for  the  time  being,  en- 
tirely convinced  that  a  first-class  fully-equipped  dining 
car  is  the  greatest  wonder  that  ever  went  on  wheels. 

Next  to  the  "Lafayette"  I  find  the  sleeper  "Marco."  I 
also  find  as  I  emerge  from  the  narrow  passageway, 
which  is  an  unavoidable  nuisance  in  all  Pullman  cars, 
the  genial,  good-natured,  and  good-looking  sleeping- 
car  conductor,  Miles  H.  Suter,  who  has  charge  of  the 
three  Pullman  sleepers  that  are  on  the  train. 

"Mr.  Suter,"  I  said,  "the  Pullman  people  have  given 
us  a  fine  train." 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "There  are  no  more  substantial  or 
more  comfortable  cars  in  the  Pullman  service  than  these. 
In  one  of  them  a  person  can  ride  many  hundreds  of  miles 
and  not  become  fatigued.  You  will  find  the  motion  of 
these  cars  very  agreeable  and  easy.  They  were  selected 
for  this  trip  because  of  this  admirable  qualification,  and 
as  far  as  ease  and  comfort  goes  I  predict  for  your  party  a 
very  pleasant  tour.  Another  thing,"  continued  Mr. 
Suter,  "I  have  already  noticed,  which  will  contribute 
much  to  your  comfort,  and  which  is  lacking  in  most 
excursion  parties,  is  that  you  have  plenty  of  room,  and 
so  are  not  crowded.  The  gentlemen  who  have  arranged 
the  excursion  deserve  a  great  deal  of  credit  for  the  ex- 
cellent judgment  they  have  exercised  in  not  having  too 
many  or  too  few,  but  just  enough.  There  are  no  vacan- 
cies and  no  one  is  crowded.  It  was  also  wise  to  have  no 


18  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

children  along,  for  little  folks  often  need  attention  that 
cannot  be  given  them  on  a  journey  of  this  kind,  and  their 
mothers  need  rest  instead  of  the  worriment  that  conies 
from  having  the  care  of  little  ones  on  their  hands." 

"Mr.  Suter,"  I  remarked,  as  a  genteel  colored  man  in 
a  neat  uniform  come  through  the  car,  "it  must  be  a  very 
laborious  task  when  night  comes  for  one  man  to  convert 
all  these  seats  into  beds,  and  in  the  morning  change  them 
back  again." 

"Yes,  it  seems  like  a  great  deal  of  work,  but  an  ex- 
perienced porter  will  soon  make  the  change.  I  have 
three  good  men,  one  to  each  car,  and  you  have  only  to 
watch  Dennis  Jackson  in  the  'Marco/  Dick  Pettus  in 
the  'Milton/  or  George  Custis  in  the  'Orchis/  making  up 
the  berths,  to  be  convinced  that  by  a  man  who  under- 
stands the  business  the  work  is  more  quickly  and  easily 
accomplished  than  one  would  suppose  possible.  Every- 
thing must  be  kept  clean  and  tidy,  pillow-cases  and  sheets 
changed  daily,  and  towels  used  but  once.  Every  time  a 
towel  is  used  a  clean  one  takes  its  place.  Cleanliness  is 
an  important  rule  in  the  Pullman  service,  and  we  are 
obliged  to  strictly  enforce  it." 

Thanking  Mr.  Suter  for  his  kind  information  I  turn  my 
attention  to  the  occupants  of  the  car.  State  room  A  is 
occupied  by  Conductors  Suter  and  McDonald. 

Section  I  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Samuel  Horner.  Brother 
Horner  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division.  Mrs. 
Horner  is  a  member  of  Erickson  Division  No.  5,  L.  A. 

Section  2  by  Colonel  and  Mrs.  John  T.  Layfield. 
Brother  Layfield  is  secretary  and  treasurer  of  Wilming- 
ton Division  No.  224,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Delaware 


C.  E.  WYMAN,  CHAIRMAN  OF  THE  COMMITTEE. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IQ 

Division;  he  served  on  the  staff  of  Governor  Benjamin 
Biggs  of  Delaware  several  years  ago,  thus  earning  the 
title  of  colonel. 

Section  3  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  M.  Shaw.  Brother 
Shaw  is  P.  C.  C.  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  Central  Division. 

Section  4  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  E.  Wyman. 
Brother  Wyman  is  a  member  of  Wilmington  Division 
No.  224,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Maryland  Division;  he 
is  president  and  manager  of  the  excursion  and  has 
worked  to  make  it  a  success. 

Section  5  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  A  Reilly.  Brother 
Reilly  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Maryland  Division.  Mrs. 
Reilly  is  a  member  of  Erickson  Division  No.  5,  L.  A. 

Section  6  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  J.  Maxwell.  Brother 
Maxwell  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division;  he  is 
secretary  and  treasurer  of  162,  also  of  the  excursion,  and 
works  hard  in  the  interest  of  the  same.  Mrs.  Maxwell 
is  a  member  of  Erickson  Division  No.  5,  L.  A. 

Section  7  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  L.  Springer. 
Brother  Springer  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia 
Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Philadelphia 
Division.  Mrs.  Springer  is  a  member  of  Erickson  Divis- 
ion No.  5,  L.  A. 

Section  8  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  W.  Brown.  Brother 
Brown  is  A.  C.  C.  and  a  trustee  of  West  Philadelphia 
Division  No.  162;  he  is  a  member  of  the  excursion  ex- 
ecutive committee,  and  has  the  welfare  of  the  party  at 
heart.  Mrs.  Brown  is  a  member  and  president  of  Erick- 
son Division  No.  5,  L.  A. 


2O  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

Section  9  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  W.  Dale.  Brother 
Dale  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division. 

Section  10  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walter  W.  Terry.  Brother 
Terry  is  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division,  and  a 
member  and  trustee  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162;  he  is  a  member  of  the  excursion  executive  com- 
mittee, the  heavyweight  of  the  party,  whose  herculean 
strength  and  sound  judgment  can  always  be  relied  upon. 

Section  n  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  M.  Matthews. 
Brother  Matthews  is  a  member  and  a  P.  C.  C.  Conductor 
of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor 
on  the  Schuylkill  Division. 

Section  12  by  Brothers  John  H.  Reagan  and  Charles  J. 
McCarty.  Brother  Reagan  is  a  member  of  West  Phila- 
delphia Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Mary- 
land Division ;  he  is  a  member  of  the  excursion  executive 
committee,  and  is  keenly  alive  to  all  that  pertains  to  the 
welfare  and  pleasure  of  the  party.  Brother  McCarty  is  a 
member  of  Susquehanna  Division  No.  331,  and  a  con- 
ductor on  the  Frederick  Division.  Brothers  Reagan  and 
McCarty  enjoy  the  freedom  of  bachelorship,  and  are 
general  favorites  with  the  ladies. 

Drawing  room  13  is  occupied  by  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Mitchell.  Brother  Mitchell  is  a  member  of  West  Phila- 
delphia Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Mary- 
land Division;  he  is  well  known  as  a  genial,  good-hearted 
fellow,  and  was  given  the  title  of  "Colonel"  several  years 
ago  by  his  associates  because  of  his  entertaining  and 
hospitable  disposition. 

Leaving  the  "Marco"  with  its  happy  occupants,  whose 
comforts  will  be  looked  after  by  the  polite  and  attentive 


ON   A  PULLMAN   TRAIN.  21 

porter,  Dennis  Jackson,  I  passed  through  the  vestibule 
into  the  next  car,  "Milton,"  which  I  found  similar  in 
almost  every  respect  to  the  "Marco."  Meeting  the 
porter,  stalwart,  good-natured  Dick  Pettus,  I  informed 
him  that  I  had  visited  the  "Milton"  in  order  to  obtain  the 
position  and  names  of  the  occupants. 

"I'm  not  much  acquainted  with  anybody  yet,"  replied 
Dick,  "but  don't  think  I'll  have  any  trouble,  as  everybody 
seems  to  be  all  right  and  happy." 

"Yes,"  I  answered,  as  I  took  a  glance  at  the  occupants 
of  the  car,  "you  will  find  them  all  first  rate  people,  and 
all  right  in  the  daytime,  but  be  careful  and  keep  the  doors 
locked  and  your  eye  on  them  at  night,  for  there  are  two 
or  three  in  this  car  who  are  afflicted  with  somnambulism, 
and  they  might  walk  off  the  train  or  get  into  the  wrong 
berth  while  in  such  a  condition."  "Good  Lord,"  was 
Dick's  reply  as  he  vanished  into  the  toilet  room.  I  find 
the  state  room  in  the  "Milton"  reserved  for  a  hospital. 
It  is  hoped  it  will  not  be  needed  for  such  a  purpose. 

Section  i  is  occupied  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  W.  Goff. 
Brother  Goff  is  a  member  of  Camden  Division  No. 
170,  and  a  conductor  on  the  West  Jersey  and  Seashore 
Division. 

Section  2  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  L.  Wilson.  Brother 
Wilson  is  a  member  of  Camden  Division  No.  170,  and  a 
conductor  on  the  West  Jersey  and  Seashore  Division. 

Section  3  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thomas  B.  Gilliland. 
Brother  Gilliland  is  a  member  of  Dauphin  Division  No. 
143,  and  a  conductor  on  the.  Middle  Division.  Mrs. 
Gilliland  is  a  member  of  Keystone  Division  No.  47,  L.  A. 

Section  4  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  E.  Sheppard.  Brother 
Sheppard  is  a  member  of  Camden  Division  No.  170,  and 


22  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

a  yardmaster  on  the  Amboy  Division.  Mrs.  Sheppard 
is  a  member  of  Erickson  Division  No.  5,  L.  A. 

Section  5  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  N.  Kilgore.  Brother 
Kilgore  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Philadelphia  Division. 

Section  6,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  D.  R.  Sparks.  Brother 
Sparks  is  a  member  of  Camden  Division  No.  170,  and  a 
conductor  on  the  West  Jersey  Division. 

Section  7  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  A.  Kalkman.  Brother 
Kalkman  is  a  member  of  Capitol  Division  No.  378,  and 
a  conductor  on  the  Maryland  Division. 

Section  8  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  H.  Morris.  Brother 
Morris  is  a  member  of  Wilmington  Division  No.  224, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  Maryland  Division. 

Section  9  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  E.  Foster.  Brother 
Foster  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Maryland  Division. 

Section  10  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  I.  M.  Cohee.  Brother 
Cohee  is  a  member  of  Wilmington  Division  No.  224, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  Maryland  Division. 

Section  1 1  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Dougherty.  Brother 
Dougherty  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division 
No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division. 

Section  12  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  H.  Moore.  Brother 
Moore  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division. 

Drawing  room  by  Doctor  and  Mrs.  C.  E.  Mattson. 
Brother  Mattson  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia 
Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Maryland 
Division;  he  is  a  graduate  of  Jefferson  Medical  College, 
and  has  quite  an  extensive  practice,  to  which  he  devotes 
his  time  when  not  engaged  in  his  duties  on  the  road. 


A   PULLMAN   SLEEPING   CAR. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  23 

Brother  Mattson  has  kindly  consented  to  give  the  party 
his  professional  care  while  on  the  trip,  if  needed,  but  it 
is  earnestly  hoped  that  there  will  be  but  a  very  few  oc- 
casions for  an  exercise  of  his  professional  skill  and  that 
his  labors  in  this  direction  will  be  light. 

Entering  the  "Orchis,"  the  fifth  and  last  car  on  the 
train,  I  found  the  polite  and  obliging  porter,  George 
Custis,  busily  engaged  in  the  duties  pertaining  to  his 
position.  His  passengers  all  looked  comfortable  and 
George  looked  happy. 

"George,  do  you  like  fun?"  I  quietly  asked  as  he 
passed  near  me  to  deposit  a  huge  telescope  valise  in  the 
state  room.  "Yes,  sir;  somewhat,"  he  replied,  with  a 
questioning  look  in  his  eye.  "You  will  have  a  circus  on 
your  hands,  my  boy,  or  I  fail  to  read  the  combination," 
I  added,  as  he  emerged  from  the  state  room.  I  had 
glanced  down  the  line  as  I  entered  the  car  and  noticed 
among  the  occupants  some  well-known  characters  for 
fun  and  frolic,  and  conclude  there  is  a  picnic  in  store  for 
the  porter  and  passengers  of  the  sleeper  "Orchis." 

Turning  now  to  the  business  that  brought  me  to  the 
"Orchis,"  I  find  that  the  state  room  is  occupied  by 
Messrs.  Charles  Sloane  and  William  Haas.  Brother 
Sloane  is  a  member  of  Quaker  City  Division  No.  204, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  Philadelphia  Division;  he  is  the 
Nimrod  of  the  party,  and  has  come  equipped  with  fishing 
tackle  and  rifle.  He  is  well  acquainted  with  some  of  the 
best  hunting  grounds  in  the  West,  and  is  familiar  with 
the  haunts  and  habits  of  bear  ^nd  deer.  Brother  Haas 
is  a  member  of  R.  B.  Hawkins  Division  No.  114,  and  a 
conductor  on  West  Penn  Division;  he  has  a  kodak  with 
which  he  expects  to  secure  some  interesting  views. 


24  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Brothers  Sloane  and  Haas  enjoy  the  privileges  and  liber- 
ties of  single-blessedness,  but  are  not  averse  to  the 
society  of  ladies. 

Section  I  by  Messrs.  Joseph  Schuler  and  John  B.  Cris- 
pen.  Brother  Schuler  is  a  member  of  R.  B.  Hawkins 
Division  No.  114,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Pittsburgh 
Division.  Brother  Crispen  is  secretary  and  treasurer  of 
Renovo  Division  No.  333,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Middle 
Division,  Philadelphia  and  Erie  Railroad.  He  is  a 
bachelor,  young  in  years,  and  inclined  to  be  shy  in  the 
presence  of  the  ladies. 

Section  2  by  Messrs.  T.  J.  Denniston  and  J.  J.  Restein. 
Brother  Denniston  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia 
Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York 
Division;  he  is  a  bachelor,  arrived  at  the  years  of  dis- 
cretion, cautious  and  modest  in  his  habits,  an  excellent 
conversationalist,  whose  companionship  is  appreciated 
and  enjoyed  by  all.  Brother  Restein  is  a  member  of 
Wilmington  Division  No.  224,  and  a  conductor  on  the 
New  York,  Philadelphia  and  Norfolk  Railroad.  He 
keeps  his  kodak  always  handy,  for  it  is  his  purpose  to 
try  to  obtain  some  of  the  best  views  of  incidents  and 
scenery  on  the  trip. 

Section  3  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  T.  Elder.  Brother 
Elder  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New  York  Division. 

Section  4  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hugh  Leary.  Brother 
Leary  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No. 
162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Schuylkill  Division;  he  has 
been  but  a  few  days  married,  and  both  bride  and  groom 
receive  the  congratulation  of  many  friends  in  being  so 
fortunate  as  to  be  able  to  take  such  an  enjoyable  wedding 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  25 

tour.  May  sunshine,  health,  and  happiness  be  ever 
theirs. 

Section  5  by  Mr.  P.  J.  Barrett  and  his  sister,  Miss 
Anna  S.  Barrett  Brother  Barrett  is  a  member  of  West 
Philadelphia  Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the 
New  York  Division.  Being  a  single  man,  he  had  no 
wife  to  accompany  him,  but  he  did  the  next  best  thing 
and  brought  his  sister,  a  commendable  act  that  redounds 
to  Brother  Barrett's  credit.  A  man  that  is  good  to  his 
sister  will  be  good  to  a  wife.  Mark  it! 

Section  6,  Mr.  William  H.  Post  and  daughter,  Miss 
Ella  L.  Post.  Brother  Post  is  a  member  of  West  Phila- 
delphia Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  New 
York  Division.  Mrs.  Post  being  unable,  on  account  of 
ill  health,  to  accompany  the  excursion,  permitted  her 
daughter  to  take  her  place,  a  privilege  the  young  lady 
highly  appreciates  and  enjoys. 

Section  7,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  N.  Climenson.  Brother 
Climenson  is  a  member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division 
No.  162,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Philadelphia  Division. 

Section  8,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  J.  Foulon.  Brother  Fou- 
lon  is  a  member  and  P.  C.  C.  of  Quaker  City  Division 
No.  204,  and  a  conductor  on  the  Philadelphia  Division. 

Section  9,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  R.  Haefner.  Brother 
Haefner  is  C.  C.  of  Susquehanna  Division  No.  331,  and  a 
conductor  on  the  Philadelphia  Division. 

Section  10,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  F.  Smith.  Brother 
Smith  is  a  member  of  Susquehanna  Division  No.  331, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  Frederick  Division. 

Section  n,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  J.  McKernan.  Brother 
McKernan  is  a  member  of  Neptune  Division  No.  169, 
and  assistant  passenger  yardmaster  at  Jersey  City. 


26  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Section  12,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  M.  Houston.  Brother 
Houston  is  S.  C.  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162, 
and  a  conductor  on  the  Schuylkill  Division.  Mrs.  Hous- 
ton is  a  member  of  Erickson  Division  No.  5,  L.  A. 

Drawing  room,  Messrs.  C.  E.  Waddington,  O.  Will- 
iams, and  H.  H.  Taylor.  Brother  Waddington  is  C.  C. 
of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162,  and  a  conductor 
on  the  New  York  Division;  Brother  Williams  is  a  mem- 
ber of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162,  and  a  con- 
ductor on  the  Maryland  Division;  Brother  Taylor  is  a 
member  of  West  Philadelphia  Division  No.  162,  and  a 
conductor  on  the  New  York  Division.  Brothers  Wad- 
dington and  Williams  are  unmarried,  but  it  is  not  known 
for  how  long.  We  can  only  wait  and  see. 

On  the  rear  platform  stood  Brakeman  T.  M.  Tobin, 
who  was  selected  by  Trainmaster  Simms  to  accompany 
Conductor  Bostick  as  flagman  because  of  his  well-known 
adherence  to  the  rules  that  govern  this  important  posi- 
tion. We  are  spinning  along  at  about  a  fifty  mile  per 
hour  rate  of  speed,  and  have  passed  through  some  of  the 
finest  farming  country  in  the  world.  A  "fleeting  view" 
is  all  we  get,  but  one  glance  is  sufficient  to  show  us  fine, 
substantial  buildings  and  fences  in  good  repair  and  men 
busily  engaged  in  preparing  the  soil  for  the  reception  of 
seed. 

We  have  passed  the  city  of  Lancaster  and  are  nearing 
Harrisburg.  Dinner  has  been  announced,  and  I  retrace 
my  steps  to  the  dining  car  to  find  the  tables  filled. 
Although  hungry  I  console  myself  with  the  thought  that 
"there  are  others,  lots  of  others,"  and  that  in  my  misery 
I  had  lots  of  company.  In  the  meantime  I  avail  myself 
of  the  opportunity  of  ascertaining  who  our  guests  are, 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  2/ 

as  a  number  of  gentlemen  accompanied  us  from  Phila- 
delphia. 

Glancing  up  the  line  of  tables,  I  see  Trainmasters 
Frank  Carlisle  of  the  Maryland,  James  G.  Ruth  of  the 
Central,  Walter  B.  Gormley  of  the  Schuylkill,  and  Rees 
L.  Hannum  of  the  Delaware  Extension  and  Kensington 
Divisions;  Yardmasters  L.  H.  Smith,  Kensington,  and 
Anthony  Hughes,  Fifteenth  ?nd  Washington  Avenue, 
and  George  Stults,  assistant  secretary  of  West  Philadel- 
phia Division  No.  162.  They  seem  to  be  having  a  good 
time,  and  are  all  bravely  battling  with  Jersey  mutton  and 
Long  Island  spring  duck. 

In  the  centre  of  one  of  the  tables  is  a  magnificent  bou- 
quet of  choice  flowers,  presented  to  the  party  in  Phila- 
delphia by  Messrs.  Myers  &  Lautman,  florists,  of  Wynd- 
moor,  Chestnut  Hill.  It  is  much  admired  by  all  for  its 
beauty  and  fragrance.  As  the  tables  became  vacant 
they  were  rapidly  filled  up  by  those  in  waiting,  and  it 
was  not  long  until  the  entire  party  had  partaken  of  a 
dinner  that  was  admitted  by  all  to  be  hard  to  beat,  and 
a  credit  to  Conductor  McDonald  and  his  competent  and 
obliging  help. 

At  1.22  P.  M.  we  arrived  at  Harrisburg,  where  a  short 
stop  of  eight  minutes  was  made  in  changing  engines. 
We  bid  adieu  to  our  guests,  receiving  from  them  many 
congratulations  and  compliments  as  to  our  outfit  and 
prospects,  and  best  wishes  for  a  happy  trip  and  safe  re- 
turn. The  jovial  trainmaster  of  the  Central  Division,  as 
he  bade  us  goodbye,  said :  "You  people  could  not  travel 
in  better  form  or  fare  better  if  you  were  a  party  of 
millionaires.  I  am  sure  you  will  have  a  good  time." 

Whole-souled,  big-hearted   Frank  Carlisle  heaved  a 


28  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

great  sigh  as  he  shook  hands  with  Manager  Wyman  and 
Colonel  Mitchell,  and  with  a  tear  in  his  eye  murmured, 
"Boys,  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you."  Walt  Gormley  and 
George  Stults  turned  their  backs  on  the  crowd  to  hide 
their  emotion  as  "all  aboard"  rang  out,  and  the  last  seen 
of  "Tony"  Hughes  he  was  struggling  in  the  grasp  of 
Lew  Smith  and  Rees  Hannum,  who  had  to  hold  him  to 
prevent  him  from  boarding  the  now  fast-receding  train, 
they  knowing  full  well  that  business  at  Fifteenth  and 
Washington  Avenue  would  suffer  did  they  not  take 
"Tony"  back  with  them. 

It  was  just  1.30  P.  M.  when  we  left  Harrisburg,  drawn 
by  P.  R.  R.  engine  No.  32,  handled  by  Engineer  John 
Picks  and  fired  by  Jesse  Reynolds.  Conductor  A.  W. 
Black  had  charge  of  the  train  from  Harrisburg  to  Al- 
toona,  with  Flagman  J.  S.  Wagner  and  Brakeman 
A.  Gable.  W.  Brooke  Moore,  trainmaster  of  the  Middle 
Division,  was  a  guest  on  the  train  from  Harrisburg  to 
Altoona.  We  arrived  at  Altoona  4.50  P.  M.  and  left  at 
4.57  P.  M.  with  P.  R.  R.  engine  No.  867,  Engineer  F.  W. 
Masterson,  Fireman  E.  W.  Pugh,  Conductor  W.  B.  Chis- 
lett,  Flagman  Frank  Bollinger,  Brakemen  John  Cline 
and  C.  D.  Chamberlain.  As  guests  we  had  C.  W.  Culp, 
trainmaster  Pittsburgh  Division,  and  D.  M.  Ferine,  as- 
sistant master  mechanic,  of  Altoona,  who  accompanied 
the  party  to  Pittsburgh. 

Six  miles  west  of  Altoona  we  reach  Kittanning  Point 
and  circle  round  the  famous  Horseshoe  Curve.  From 
this  point  a  magnificent  view  of  Alleghany  Mountain 
scenery  can  be  seen.  Nine  miles  further  and  we  reach 
the  highest  elevation  on  our  trip  across  the  Alleghanies 
and  pass  Cresson,  a  beautiful  summer  resort,  the  loca- 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  29 

tion  of  the  noted  "Mountain  House,"  whose  marvelous 
reputation  for  rates  and  rations  attracts  the  bon-ton 
patronage  of  the  world. 

We  now  enter  the  Conemaugh  country  and  note  its 
picturesque  hills  and  mountain  ridges,  among  which 
winds  and  wriggles  the  historic  Conemaugh  River, 
which  at  present  seems  but  little  more  than  a  harmless, 
babbling  brook;  but  when  the  rains  fall  and  the  snows 
melt,  and  this  sparkling  little  creek  receives  the  waters 
from  a  hundred  hills,  it  becomes  a  very  demon  in  its 
resistless  fury.  For  eight  miles  we  have  followed  this 
stream  and  part  company  with  it  as  we  pass  through  the 
city  of  Johnstown.  Johnstown  will  ever  remember  the 
Conemaugh  River,  flowing  as  it  does  through  the  very 
centre  of  the  city.  It  is  a  constant  menace  to  the  tran- 
quillity and  security  of  the  people,  and  in  yonder  hill- 
side cemetery  two  thousand  glistening  tombstones  bear 
sad  and  silent  testimony  to  the  awful  horrors  of  a  Cone- 
maugh flood. 

It  has  grown  dark  and  we  are  approaching  Pittsburgh. 
A  stop  is  made  at  East  Liberty,  and  a  delegation  of 
brothers  from  R.  B.  Hawkins  Division  No.  114  of 
Pittsburgh  get  aboard  and  accompany  us  into  Pitts- 
burgh. The  visitors  kindly  present  each  one  of  our 
party  with  a  bouquet  of  roses.  We  arrive  at  Pittsburgh 
8.12  P.  M.  and  stop  for  eighteen  minutes,  leaving  at  8.30 
(7.30  Central)  P.  M.  Time  changes  now  from  Eastern 
to  Central,  which  makes  us  leave  at  7.30  instead  of  8.30. 
To  some  of  us  this  is  rather  a  perplexing  thing,  for  we 
are  leaving  Pittsburgh  forty-two  minutes  before  we 
arrive  there.  A  number  of  our  party  are  setting  their 
watches  to  Central  time,  I  will  allow  mine  to  remain  as 


30  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

it  is,  and  will  use  Eastern  time  in  my  notes  in  connection 
with  the  Standard  time  of  whatever  locality  we  may 
be  in. 

Left  Pittsburgh  with  P.  C.  C.  &  St.  L.  engine  No.  183, 
Engineer  A.  F.  Winchell,  Fireman  O.  Brown,  who  runs 
us  to  Dennison,  Ohio,  93  miles.  Conductor  L.  E. 
Schull,  Brakemen  W.  A.  Chambers  and  E.  S.  Chambers 
go  with  us  to  Columbus,  Ohio,  193  miles.  We  almost 
regret  that  it  is  night,  for  we  desire  to  see  the  country. 
At  9.50  (8.50  Central)  P.  M.  we  arrive  at  Steubenville, 
43  miles  from  Pittsburgh,  and  stop  five  minutes  for 
water. 

We  are  now  on  the  Pittsburgh  Division  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania lines,  operated  by  the  Pittsburgh,  Cincinnati, 
Chicago  and  St.  Louis  Railway  Company.  The  Pitts- 
burgh Division  extends  from  Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  to  Colum- 
bus, Ohio,  a  distance  of  193  miles.  Most  of  the  party 
have  turned  in  and  at  11.30  (10.30  Central),  just  as  our 
train  stops  at  Dennison,  Ohio,  I  prepare  to  undertake 
the  novel  experiment  of  trying  to  get  a  night's  sleep 
in  the  berth  of  a  Pullman  car.  It  is  a  new  and  strange 
experience  to  me,  but  I  go  at  it  to  win.  There  is  no- 
body in  sight,  but  the  presence  of  a  carload  of  people  is 
felt.  The  long,  narrow  aisle  of  the  car  is  deserted,  but  I 
hesitate  to  exercise  the  privilege  its  deserted  condition 
would  seem  to  warrant.  I  desire  to  undress,  but  I  wish 
to  hide  to  do  it,  and  with  this  end  in  view  I  crawl  under 
the  curtains  that  inclose  our  berth.  As  I  do  so  the  train 
starts  on  its  way  again.  Mrs.  S.  has  retired  some  time 
ago,  and  I  think  is  asleep.  There  is  not  much  room  for 
me,  but  I  determine  to  make  the  best  of  it.  Balancing 
myself  on  the  edge  of  the  berth,  I  make  a  few  changes  in 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  3! 

my  apparel,  and  come  very  near  being  precipitated  into 
the  aisle  while  so  doing  by  a  sudden  lurch  of  the  car 
as  the  train  struck  a  curve.  In  regaining  my  equilib- 
rium I  stepped  upon  the  madam,  who  quietly  inquired 
what  I  was  trying  to  do.  "Only  coming  to  bed,  my 
dear,"  I  answered.  "Is  that  all,"  she  replied,  "I  have 
been  watching  you  for  some  time  and  thought  you  either 
had  a  fit  or  else  was  practicing  gymnastics  and  using  the 
curtain  pole  for  a  horizontal  bar."  I  made  no  reply,  I 
didn't  blame  her,  and  lay  down  thankful  that  she  was 
the  only  witness  to  the  performance;  and  ours  was  not 
the  only  circus  on  the  train  that  night;  "there  were 
others." 

SUNDAY,   MAY   9th. 

Got  up  early,  after  passing  rather  a  restless  night;  did 
not  sleep  very  well;  finished  dressing  just  as  the  train 
stops  at  Richmond,  Ind.,  5.55  (4.55  Central)  A.  M.  Go 
outside  and  find  it  a  lovely  morning.  Several  of  the 
boys  are  up.  Have  come  220  miles  since  I  turned  in 
last  night  as  the  train  left  Dennison,  Ohio. 

We  are  now  on  the  Indianapolis  Division  of  the  Pitts- 
burgh, Cincinnati,  Chicago  and  St.  Louis  Railway, 
which  runs  from  Columbus,  Ohio,  to  Indianapolis,  Ind., 
a  distance  of  188  miles.  Upon  inquiry  I  learn  that  from 
Dennison  to  Columbus  we  had  P.  C.  C.  &  St.  L.  engine 
No.  59,  Engineer  Schultz.  From  Columbus  to  Indian- 
apolis, P.  C.  C.  &  St.  L.  engine  No.  102,  Engineer  John 
Cassell,  Fireman  W.  Mason,  Conductor  J.  E.  Taylor, 
Brakemen  Orvil  Hyer  and  George  Farmer.  We  arrive 
at  Indianapolis  7.45  (6.45  Central)  A.  M.,  and  leave  there 
at  8.30  (7.30  Central)  A.  M.  on  the  Main  Line  Division 


32  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

of  the  Vandalia  Line,  which  extends  from  Indianapolis 
to  St.  Louis,  a  distance  of  240  miles,  and  is  controlled 
and  operated  by  the  Terre  Haute  and  Indianapolis  Rail- 
road Company.  T.  H.  &  I.  engine  No.  34  is  drawing 
us.  It  is  called  the  World's  Fair  engine,  having  been 
built  at  Pittsburgh  and  placed  on  exhibition  at  Chicago 
during  the  great  exposition.  It  is  a  fine,  large  engine, 
and  Engineer  Fred.  Wood,  who  runs  it,  says  "she  is  a 
daisy."  The  fireman  is  G.  E.  Hickman;  conductor,  A.  J. 
Harshman;  brakemen,  J.  G.  McMahon  and  James  Ed- 
munds. Breakfast  is  announced  as  we  leave  Indian- 
apolis, and  no  second  invitation  is  required ;  our  appetites 
are  keen,  and  we  thoroughly  enjoy  McDonald's  sub- 
stantial and  bountiful  breakfast. 

We  pass  through  Terre  Haute  at  10.15  (9.15  Central) 
A.  M.,  and  cross  the  Wabash  River  a  short  distance  west 
of  the  city.  Ten  minutes  after  passing  through  Terre 
Haute  we  cross  the  State  line  and  enter  Illinois.  There 
is  a  delay  of  five  minutes  at  Erfingham  by  a  hot  box  on 
engine  34.  Just  after  leaving  Efnngham  a  stone  was 
thrown  by  some  one  and  broke  an  outside  window  in 
car  "Milton,"  section  4,  occupied  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  L.  E. 
Sheppard.  A  stop  of  five  minutes  is  made  at  Greenville 
to  oil  and  take  water.  Three  strange  men  boarded  the 
train  at  this  point  and  were  not  noticed  until  after  it  had 
started,  when  they  claimed  they  had  made  a  mistake, 
thinking  it  a  regular  train.  The  train  was  stopped  to 
leave  them  off.  We  partook  of  lunch  at  1.15  (12.15 
Central)  P.  M.,  being  always  ready  to  eat. 

It  is  raining  as  we  approach  St.  Louis,  where  we  arrive 
at  2.30  (1.30  Central)  P.  M.  The  effects  of  last  Summer's 
terrible  tornado  can  plainly  be  seen,  as  we  cross  the 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  33 

bridge  from  East  St.  Louis,  in  great  piles  of  debris  that 
have  not  as  yet  been  cleared  away.  On  account  of  the 
rain  the  prospect  of  seeing  much  of  the  city  is  very  poor. 
A  trolley  ride  of  five  miles  through  the  city  to  Forrest 
Park  was  taken  by  a  number  of  our  party.  It  is  too  wet 
to  take  a  walk  in  the  park,  and  after  spending  a  half  hour 
in  a  large  pavilion  watching  the  pouring  rain  we  return 
to  the  Union  Depot,  which  we  look  through  and  find  it 
to  be  a  large  and  magnificent  structure,  exceeding  in 
size  and  excelling  in  grandeur  our  own  Broad  Street 
Station  at  Philadelphia.  It  was  built  at  an  expense  of 
$6,500,000,  and  covers  an  area  of  424,200  square  feet. 
The  train  shed  contains  thirty  tracks,  which  are  used  by 
twenty-two  different  roads. 

Several  of  us  met  Conductor  W.  Fetzer,  of  the  Louis- 
ville and  Nashville,  and  had  a  pleasant  half  hour  with 
him.  On  account  of  a  defective  flange,  a  pair  of  new 
wheels  were  put  under  the  dining  car  "Lafayette"  this 
afterncon.  Mrs.  Shaw,  Mrs.  Dale,  Mrs.  Reilly,  and 
Miss  Post  are  on  the  sick  list  this  afternoon.  Called  to 
dinner  at  8.30  (7.30  Central)  P.  M.,  after  which  we  were 
escorted  through  the  magnificent  station  by  Station- 
master  J.  J.  Coakley  and  Conductor  A.  J.  Harshman. 
The  station  is  lighted  with  thousands  of  electric  lights  of 
many  different  hues  and  colors.  Every  light  is  burning 
to-night,  the  second  time  since  the  construction  of  the 
station,  the  first  time  at  its  dedication,  September  ist, 
1894,  and  thi3  the  second  time  in  honor  of  the  visit  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Railroad  conductors,  May  Qth,  1897.  Our 
most  sincere  thanks  are  due  the  kind  and  courteous 
stationmaster,  J.  J.  Coakley,  for  the  favor  and  honor  ac- 
corded us.  May  his  shadow  never  grow  less. 


34  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

An  itinerary  souvenir  of  our  train  over  the  Iron 
Mountain  Route,  Texas  and  Pacific  and  Southern  Pacific 
Railways,  from  St.  Louis  to  Los  Angeles,  via  Texarkana 
and  El  Paso,  was  presented  to  each  member  of  cur  party 
by  the  Iron  Mountain  Route  management  through  Mr. 
Coakley.  It  is  a  neat  little  affair,  much  appreciated,  and 
will  be  highly  prized  as  a  souvenir  of  our  trip. 

At  9.15  (8.15  Central)  P.  M.  our  train  rolled  out  of  the 
Grand  Union  Depot  over  the  Iron  Mountain  Route, 
which  extends  from  St.  Louis  to  Texarkana,  a  distance 
of  490  miles.  St.  L.  I.  M.  &  S.  engine  No.  630  is  draw- 
ing us,  with  Engineer  John  Hayes  at  the  throttle,  Fire- 
man J.  E.  Schader,  Conductor  W.  Hall,  Brakeman  J.  L. 
Thompson,  and  Baggagemaster  M.  Madison.  We  have 
this  engine  and  crew  to  Poplar  Bluff,  166  miles,  with  the 
exception  of  the  baggagemaster,  who  goes  through  to 
Texarkana.  There  is  an  inquiry  for  Brother  Reagan; 
he  has  not  been  seen  since  leaving  St.  Louis.  Our 
hearts  are  filled  with  consternation  and  alarm,  for  we 
believe  he  has  been  left,  and  how  can  we  get  along  with- 
out "Jack;  good,  jolly,  jovial  Jack."  Maxwell's  eyes  are 
dimmed  with  lears  of  sorrow,  and  McCarty  is  wringing 
his  hands  in  grief.  "Let  us  stop  the  train  and  return 
and  get  him,"  suggested  Mrs.  Kalkman.  "I  believe  he 
has  been  kidnaped,"  said  Brother  Sloane,  "or  he  would 
never  have  got  left."  "He's  all  right;  I  found  him," 
shouted  Brother  Waddington,  as  he  entered  the  car,  and 
there  was  great  rejoicing  when  it  was  learned  that  in- 
stead of  being  kidnaped  and  left  behind,  Brother  Reagan 
was  peacefully  sleeping  in  Brother  Waddington's  berth 
in  the  drawing  room  in  rear  of  the  train. 

F.  B.  DeGarmo,  trainmaster  of  St.  Louis,  Iron  Mount- 


AT    EFKINGHAM,    ILLINOIS. 


LEAVING   LONGVIEW  JUN'CTION,    TEXAS. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  35 

ain  and  Southern  Railroad,  and  his  assistant,  T.  H. 
Gray,  accompanied  us  from  St.  Louis  to  Poplar  Bluff, 
and  Conductor  P.  Elkins,  a  member  of  DeSoto  Division 
No.  241,  got  on  at  DeSoto  and  went  with  us  to  Bis- 
marck. A  large  number  of  our  party  were  gathered  in 
the  smoking  car  and  we  had  quite  an  entertainment. 
Brother  Elkins  sang  a  number  of  songs,  and  the  cook 
and  waiters,  one  of  them  having  a  banjo,  entertained  us 
with  songs  and  music  hard  to  beat,  and  most  thoroughly 
enjoyed  by  all.  Conductors  McDonald  and  Suter  and 
Brother  Haas  sang  excellent  songs,  and  Wyman  and 
Shaw  gave  recitations.  Our  genial  train  conductor, 
Capt.  W.  Hall,  related  some  interesting  stories  of  the 
days  when  this  section  of  the  country  was  terrorized  by 
the  operations  and  exploits  of  the  Jesse  James'  gang  of 
train  robbers.  Captain  Hall's  train  was  held  up  one 
night  by  this  daring  band  of  thieves  at  Gad's  Hill,  120 
miles  south  of  St.  Louis.  Hall  was  forced  to  surrender 
and  remain  quiet  with  the  cold  muzzle  of  a  revolver 
pressed  against  his  temple.  An  attempt  was  made  to 
blow  open  the  safe  in  the  express  car,  but  the  robbers 
became  frightened  at  their  own  noise  and  fled  without 
securing  any  booty.  The  evening  has  been  such  a  very 
enjoyable  one  that  midnight  approaches  unawares ;  find- 
ing it  so  late  we  turn  in,  having  less  difficulty  in  doing  so 
than  we  had  last  night. 

MONDAY,    MAY   lOth. 

Got  up  this  morning  at  6.30  (5.30  Central)  and  found 
our  train  in  charge  of  Conductor  H.  C.  Withrow  and 
Engineer  A.  B.  Archibald,  with  St.  L.  I.  M.  &  S.  engine 
No.  375>  fired  by  T.  Grifin.  Captain  Withrow  took 


36  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

charge  of  the  train  at  Poplar  Bluff,  with  instructions  to 
consume  ten  hours  and  thirty-two  minutes  in  the  run  to 
Texarkana,  a  distance  of  325  miles.  Withrow  has  no 
brakeman,  but  is  accompanied  by  a  colored  porter,  J.  J. 
Norris,  who  performs  the  duties  of  a  brakeman.  We 
are  now  in  Arkansas,  having  crossed  the  State  line  last 
night  at  Moark,  185  miles  south  of  St.  Louis.  We  arrive 
at  Little  Rock,  Ark.,  8.15  (7.15  Central)  A.  M.,  and 
make  a  stop  of  ten  minutes.  We  alight  to  look  around 
and  very  much  admire  the  "375,"  and  are  informed  that 
it  is  one  of  the  best  engines  on  the  Iron  Mountain  Route 
and  the  first  one  built  at  the  company's  new  shops  at 
Baring  Cross,  Little  Rock,  Ark.  Went  to  breakfast  at 
9.10  (8.1  o  Central),  hungry  as  a  hyena. 

We  cannot  help  but  notice  as  we  journey  through 
Arkansas  the  advanced  condition  of  vegetation.  Farm- 
ers in  the  East  are  only  preparing  their  ground  for  corn, 
and  here  it  is  up;  potatoes  are  in  blossom,  and  peas  are 
ready  for  use.  Cotton  is  grown  extensively  here,  and 
many  acres  are  seen  with  the  plants  just  peeping  through 
the  ground.  We  are  now  nearing  the  southern  ex- 
tremity of  the  State  and  approaching  Texarkana,  where 
we  arrive  at  12.35  (Ii:-35  A.  M.  Central)  P.  M.,  having 
passed  through  the  State  of  Arkansas  305  miles  in  a 
slightly  southwesterly  direction. 

A  stop  of  twenty-five  minutes  is  given  us  at  Texar- 
kana, which  is  on  the  line  between  Arkansas  and  Texas, 
one-half  of  the  station  being  in  Arkansas  and  the  other 
half  in  Texas.  Brother  Wyman,  who  acts  in  the  double 
capacity  of  manager  and  clown,  has  a  robe  of  crazy 
patchwork  design,  a  veritable  coat  of  many  colors,  in 
which  he  has  arrayed  himself,  much  to  the  amusement 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  37 

of  the  crowd  of  natives  who  have  assembled  on  our 
arrival.  The  antics  of  Brother  Wyman  and  a  number  of 
others  who  have  taken  possession  of  a  bronco  and  a  team 
of  donkeys  occasion  a  great  deal  of  merriment.  As  we 
are  about  to  leave,  Mrs.  Robert  Foulon  was  presented 
with  a  large  bunch  of  beautiful  magnolias  by  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Carmichael,  of  Texarkana.  It  graced  the  side- 
board of  the  dining  car  for  many  days  and  was  much 
admired. 

Left  Texarkana  1.35  (12.35  Central)  P.  M.  on  the 
Texas  and  Pacific  Road,  with  T.  &  P.  engine  No.  126, 
Engineer  William  Gunn,  Conductor  Joseph  Scully, 
Brakeman  J.  C.  Smith,  who  will  run  us  to  Longview 
Junction,  97  miles.  E.  W.  Campbell,  trainmaster  on  the 
Eastern  Division  of  the  Texas  and  Pacific,  will  go  with 
us  to  Fort  Worth,  the  terminus  of  his  division,  253  miles. 
Trainmaster  Campbell  is  a  member  of  Alamo  Division 
No.  59,  of  Texarkana.  Brother  Sloane  went  to  a  barber 
shop  in  Texarkana  and  got  left.  Trainmaster  Campbell 
left  instructions  for  the  conductor  of  the  following  train 
to  carry  him  to  Longview  Junction,  where  he  will  over- 
take us.  No  "weeping  and  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth"  in  this  case,  for  we  are  assured  of  the  safety  of 
our  brother. 

We  arrived  at  Longview  Junction  on  time,  5.22  (4.22 
Central)  P.  M.,  and  five  minutes  later  the  following  train, 
No.  55,  arrived  and  with  it  came  Brother  Sloane,  who 
was  given  quite  a  reception,  the  ladies  presenting  him 
with  bouquets  of  natural  grasses  and  flowers  and  the 
"boys"  tying  a  cord  to  him  and  leading  him  into  the 
train.  He  has  promised  not  to  do  it  again. 

Our  train  was  attached  to  No.  55,  which  is  called  the 


38  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

"Cannon  Ball"  Express,  and  at  5.35  (4.35  Ce  itral)  P.  M. 
we  left  Longview  Junction  with  a  train  of  nine  cars, 
drawn  by  T.  &  P.  engine  No.  229,  in  charge  of  Engineer 
E.  Smith,  fired  by  S.  Jones;  Conductor  E.  R.  Wood- 
ward, Porter  and  Brakeman  Bristoe  Young,  who  ran  us 
to  Fort  Worth,  a  distance  of  156  miles,  where  we  arrive 
11.20  (10.20  Central)  P.  M.  Just  before  reaching  the 
city  we  cross  the  Trinity  River. 

When  we  arrive  at  Fort  Worth  we  learn  that  there  is 
trouble  ahead  of  us  somewhere,  caused  by  high  water, 
which  has  a  discouraging  effect.  We  will  lay  over  at 
this  point  to-night,  with  the  expectation  of  learning 
more  in  the  morning.  There  is  a  heavy  thunder  storm 
and  it  is  raining  hard  as  we  turn  in  at  11.30  (10.30  Cen- 
tral) P.  M. 

TUESDAY,    MAY   llth. 

Got  up  at  6.30  (5.30  Central),  and  found  it  raining 
hard.  It  cleared  up  about  eight  o'clock  and  the  party 
started  out  to  see  the  town,  it  having  been  announced 
that  our  train  would  leave  at  12.15  (11.15  A.  M.  Central) 
P.  M.,  nothing  definite  having  been  learned  as  to  the 
trouble  ahead.  Our  party  received  the  best  of  treatment 
from  the  good  people  of  the  town,  and  many  places  of 
interest  were  visited.  Officer  H.  C.  Town,  of  the  city 
police,  loaded  sixteen  of  the  party  in  a  patrol  wagon  and 
drove  through  the  city  to  the  City  Hall,  where  they  were 
kindly  received  and  shown  over  the  building,  from  there 
to  the  water  works,  and  through  the  park  to  a  point 
where  a  trolley  line  took  them  to  the  station.  It  was  a 
very  enjoyable  trip.  Others  of  our  party  visited  other 
places  of  interest  and  had  equally  as  good  a  time.  A 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  39 

number  of  souvenirs  were  procured,  the  most  highly 
prized  being  the  Texan  sunbonnets,  which  so  fascinated 
the  ladies  of  our  party  that  they  purchased,  it  is  said,  all 
that  were  on  sale  in  the  city.  They  are  very  unique  in 
style  and  worn  very  extensively  by  the  native  women 
of  this  locality.  Brother  Post  purchased  a  Texan  som- 
brero, and  all  agree  that  it  is  very  becoming;  the  ladies 
are  wearing  their  sunbonnets;  Wyman  has  his  circus 
gown  and  a  Texan  sunbonnet  on ;  and  a  photographer  is 
placing  his  apparatus  in  position  to  take  a  snap  at  the 
train  and  party  before  we  leave.  With  the  snap  of  the 
camera  comes  the  shout  of  "all  aboard,"  and  as  we 
scamper  on,  the  train  moves  slowly  off,  and  we  leave 
Fort  Worth  behind  us,  but  carry  away  with  us  pleasant 
memories  of  the  beauty  of  the  city  and  of  the  kindness 
and  civility  of  its  people. 

T.  &  P.  engine  No.  188,  run  by  Engineer  John  Baker 
and  fired  by  John  Price,  draws  our  train  from  Fort 
Worth  to  Big  Springs,  a  distance  of  270  miles.  Con- 
ductor O.  H.  Bacon  and  Brakeman  Charles  Gunning  go 
with  us  from  Fort  Worth  to  El  Paso,  a  distance  of  616 
miles.  Division  Superintendent  J.  B.  Paul  accompanied 
us  from  Fort  Worth  to  Weatherford,  31  miles.  Shortly 
after  leaving  Weatherford  we  crossed  the  Brazos  River 
and  obtained  a  fine  view  of  the  Brazos  Mountains.  As 
we  passed  Eastland,  105  miles  west  of  Fort  Worth,  we 
noticed  devastation  and  ruin,  the  effect,  we  were  told,  of 
a  recent  cyclone.  A  few  miles  further  we  reach  Baird 
and  stop  ten  minutes  for  orders  and  water.  A  little  boy 
about  three  years  of  age  attracts  the  attention  of  some 
of  our  party,  who  ascertain  that  his  name  is  Reynaud 
Strobe;  his  mother  and  grandfather  live  at  the  station; 


4<D  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

his  father,  who  was  an  employe  of  the  railroad,  was 
killed  in  an  accident  about  a  year  ago,  almost  in  sight  of 
his  home.  Master  Reynaud  is  taken  through  the  train 
and  his  little  cap  is  filled  with  cake  and  coin  and  his  in- 
fant mind  with  wonderment  and  awe.  He  cannot  under- 
stand it,  and  his  baby  face  expresses  the  puzzled  condi- 
tion of  his  mind.  Should  he  live  it  is  hoped  he  will  re- 
member the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  Conductors'  Excursion. 
We  have  now  entered  the  plains  of  Texas  and  at  6.20 
(5.20  Central)  P.  M.  commence  to  pass  through  the 
prairie  dog  district.  Brother  Post  is  at  the  throttle;  he 
ran  No.  188  for  about  50  miles  and  claims  to  have  killed 
two  jack  rabbits  and  a  prairie  dog.  Jack  rabbits  and 
prairie  dogs  are  very  numerous  through  this  section,  and 
can  be  seen  scampering  in  all  directions  as  the  train 
thunders  past.  We  are  now  nearing  Big  Springs,  where 
a  stop  will  be  made  to  change  engines.  It  has  become 
dark,  and  we  can  no  longer  view  the  landscape,  jack  rab- 
bits, and  prairie  dogs.  We  arrive  at  Big  Springs  10.15 
(9.15  Central)  P.  M.,  and  after  a  delay  of  fifteen  minutes 
leave  with  T.  &  P.  engine  No.  75,  manned  by  Engineer 
D.  C.  Everley  and  Fireman  Lewis  Lem,  whose  run  ex- 
tends to  El  Paso,  347  miles.  We  have  now  entered  the 
Great  Staked  Plains,  and  regretting  that  the  darkness 
prevents  us  from  seeing  this  famous  country,  we  retire 
for  the  night  at  12.20  (11.20  P.  M.  Central)  A.  M. 

WEDNESDAY,    MAY   12th, 

Turned  out  this  morning  about  the  usual  time,  and 
found  the  train  standing  at  San  Martine  Station,  174 
miles  east  of  El  Paso.  As  we  move  on  our  way  again  we 
find  we  are  passing  through  a  picturesque,  but  barren 


A  GROUP  AT  VAN  HORN,  TEXAS. 


TOM  MCDONALD  AND  P-RED  BEACH. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  4! 

country  of  plains  and  mountain  ranges.  A  run  of  50 
miles  from  San  Martine  brings  us  to  Van  Horn,  where 
we  make  a  halt  of  forty-five  minutes  and  are  entertained 
by  Mrs.  M.  R.  Beach  and  her  son  Fred.  Mrs.  Beach 
has  charge  of  the  station  at  Van  Horn,  which  is  also  a 
supply  station  for  the  railroad.  Fred,  is  a  young  man 
about  twenty-five  years  old,  and  a  veritable  cowboy  both 
in  appearance  and  deportment.  He  entertained  and 
amused  the  party  with  an  exhibition  of  bronco  riding, 
and  to  show  his  skill  in  the  use  of  the  lasso,  chased 
Brother  Wyman  and  lassoed  him  with  the  bronco  at  a 
full  run.  Miss  Myrtle  Taylor,  a  young  lady  who  is  visit- 
ing Mrs.  Beach,  also  rode  the  bronco  for  the  amusement 
of  the  party,  but  it  was  noticed  that  the  animal  exhibited 
a  far  more  gentle  spirit  under  the  young  lady's  manage- 
ment than  it  did  when  in  charge  of  Fred.  A  cyclone 
cellar  in  the  back  yard  was  an  object  of  much  interest, 
and  the  interior  was  explored  by  several  of  the  party. 
All  the  dwellings,  of  which  there  are  but  few  through 
this  region,  we  are  told,  have  their  cyclone  pits.  For 
many  miles  through  this  country  there  are  no  habitations 
except  along  the  line  of  the  railroad,  and  the  people  are 
all  employes  of  the  Texas  and  Pacific  Railroad  Company. 
Leaving  Van  Horn,  we  pass  close  to  the  Sierra  Blanca 
Mountain  range,  and  in  a  short  time  stop  at  Sierra 
Blanca,  where  we  lay  over  for  half  an  hour  and  devote 
the  time  to  looking  around.  Sierra  Blanca  is  92  miles 
southeast  of  El  Paso  and  is  the  conjunction  of  the  Texas 
and  Pacific  and  Southern  Pacific  Railroads,  which  use 
joint  tracks  from  this  point  to  El  Paso.  A  number  of  us 
visited  the  adobe  residence  of  Jacob  Hand,  an  aged 
miner  and  prospector,  who  kindly  allowed  us  to  inspect 


42  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

his  dwelling,  which  is  a  very  unique  and  novel  affair,  a 
part  of  which  is  used  for  a  school,  and  the  old  gentleman 
is  the  teacher.  Mr.  Hand  generously  gave  our  party 
specimens  of  gold,  silver,  and  copper  ore,  which  are 
highly  prized  as  souvenirs.  Brother  Haas  had  consider- 
able difficulty  in  getting  in  range  of  the  old  gentleman 
with  his  kodak,  but  succeeded  by  strategy  in  getting  a 
"snap"  before  we  left;  also  one  of  a  group  of  the  party 
with  the  dwelling  in  the  background.  In  the  midst  of 
the  group  is  seen  a  Mexican  babe  held  In  the  arms  of  one 
of  the  ladies  of  the  party,  who  is  closely  watched  by  the 
mother  of  the  infant,  who  fears  her  babe  will  be  ap- 
propriated for  a  souvenir. 

Leaving  Sierra  Blanca,  we  pass  in  sight  and  within 
about  20  miles  of  Livermore's  Peak,  8200  feet  high,  said 
to  be  the  highest  point  in  Texas.  We  have  now  entered 
a  wild,  barren,  broken,  uninhabited  region,  hemmed  in 
by  dreary,  ominous-looking  mountain  ranges.  As  the 
road  traverses  this  broken,  desolate  district,  there  are 
places  where  almost  complete  circles  are  made  in  order 
to  avoid  ridges  and  ravines.  Just  after  passing  Malone 
Station,  15  miles  from  Sierra  Blanca,  we  encounter  a 
curve,  and  after  following  the  circle  for  over  a  mile,  find 
the  tracks  are  less  than  200  yards  apart. 

Mrs.  Wyman,  Mrs.  Layfield,  Mrs.  Shaw,  Brother 
Layfield,  and  myself  rode  on  the  engine  from  Finlay  to 
Ft.  Hancock,  which  afforded  us  a  fine  view  of  the  rugged 
scenery  through  which  we  passed.  We  arrived  at  wash- 
out, 5  miles  east  of  El  Paso,  at  5.30  (4.30  Central)  P.  M., 
and  find  our  train  can  proceed  no  further  until  the  track 
is  repaired,  four  miles  of  it  at  the  present  time  being 
under  water. 


r 


MYRTLE   TAYLOR   ON    A   BRONCO. 


RESIDENCE   OF  JACOB   HAND,    SIERRA   BLANCA,    TEXAS. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  43 

Wagons  were  in  waiting  to  convey  the  party  six  miles 
across  a  desert  plateau  to  El  Paso  at  one  dollar  per  head ; 
all  but  a  few  took  advantage  of  this  method  of  reaching 
the  city.  The  remembrance  of  this  ride  will  not  fade 
from  the  memory  in  a  hurry — six  miles  of  knee-deep, 
red-hot  desert,  dust  and  sand,  through  which  the  horses 
could  scarcely  drag  their  loads.  We  have  a  good  view  of 
the  flooded  district  and  notice  many  buildings  surrounded 
with  water,  the  occupants  of  which  were  forced  to  flee  to 
higher  ground.  All  this  water,  we  are  told,  is  the  result 
of  melting  snows  away  up  in  the  mountain  districts,  75 
or  80  miles  away.  There  is  seldom  any  rain  through 
this  region,  and  the  Rio  Grande,  one  half  the  year  a 
shallow,  insignificant  stream,  is  to-day  spread  over  many 
miles  of  country,  causing  devastation,  ruin,  and  suffering. 

Arriving  in  the  city  of  El  Paso,  we  are  obliged  to  seek 
for  accommodations,  which  causes  a  separation  of  our 
party.  The  Firemen's  State  Convention  is  in  progress 
here,  and  the  town  is  full  of  visitors.  Ten  of  us  found 
rooms  at  the  "Grand  Central,"  some  at  "Vendome,"  and 
a  number  at  the  "Pierson."  The  latter  is  the  most 
popular  place,  and  an  effort  was  made  to  get  the  entire 
party  quartered  there,  but  it  could  not  be  done.  After 
engaging  rooms  at  the  "Grand  Central"  we  went  across 
the  river,  which  is  not  overflowed  at  this  point,  into  the 
old  Mexican  town  of  Ciudad  Juarez,  the  Paso  del  Norte 
of  our  childhood  geographies. 

Under  the  escort  of  Conductors  T.  H.  Purcell  and 
Charles  Allen,  of  the  Southern  Pacific,  we  were  shown 
much  that  was  of  interest.  We  were  introduced  by 
Captain  Purcell  to  Signer  Miguel  Ahuamada,  the  gentle- 
manly Governor  of  the  State  of  Chihuahua,  who  enter- 


44  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

tained  us  very  nicely  for  half  an  hour,  giving  us  an  in- 
ternational treat,  which  ceremony  consists  of  drinks  of 
whatever  each  member  of  the  party  wishes,  the  guests 
forming  in  a  semicircle  in  front  of  the  Governor,  touch- 
ing glasses  with  him  as  they  pass.  Captain  Purcell  at 
the  same  time  made  a  speech  in  the  Mexican  language, 
with  which  he  is  thoroughly  conversant,  having  at  one 
time  filled  the  position  of  Government  Interpreter  at  this 
point.  Of  course  none  of  us  understood  a  thing  that  he 
said,  but  we  felt  sure  it  was  all  right  from  the  pleased  ex- 
pression on  his  Honor's,  face,  who  replied  in  a  pleasant 
manner  in  his  native  tongue. 

Purcell  told  us  afterward  that  he  had  informed  the 
Governor  that  we  were  a  party  of  Americans  who  had 
called  to  do  him  honor;  that  we  drank  to  his  health  and 
a  long  and  happy  life;  that  we  had  the  highest  regard 
for  Mexican  institutions,  believing  them  to  be  the  best 
in  the  world;  that  their  men  were  the  noblest  and  their 
women  the  most  beautiful  we  had  ever  met ;  that  we  wore 
upon  our  bosoms  the  colors  of  the  Mexican  flag,  which 
we  considered,  next  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  the  most 
beautiful  banner  in  the  world,  and  we  hoped  it  would  ever 
wave  in  triumph  and  in  peace  over  an  empire  that  would 
continue  to  increase  in  prosperity  and  wealth.  No  won- 
der the  old  man  smiled;  we  would  have  smiled  too  had 
we  understood  what  was  being  said.  The  red,  white 
and  green  of  our  tourist  badges  had  caught  his  eye  and 
he  was  pleased.  Captain  Purcell's  speech  flatters  him 
and  he  wants  to  do  something  to  show  his  appreciation. 

Our  visit  does  him  great  honor,  and  he  desires  to 
reciprocate;  had  he  time  to  arrange  for  a  bull  fight  he 
could  give  us  much  amusement,  but  his  best  bull  was 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  45 

killed  a  short  time  ago  and  his  matadors  are  out  of 
training;  but  he  has  a  prisoner  under  the  sentence  of 
death,  and  if  we  will  return  on  the  morrow  he  will 
execute  him  for  our  pleasure  and  entertainment.  Cap- 
tain Purcell  made  us  acquainted  with  this  proposition, 
which  we  declined  with  thanks.  We  had  no  desire  to 
see  the  poor  fellow  shot,  which  is  their  method  of  ad- 
ministering capital  punishment.  Bidding  his  Honor 
adieu,  we  are  next  escorted  through  several  of  the  prin- 
cipal gambling  resorts  and  are  much  interested  in  all  we 
see.  It  is  growing  late,  and  when  we  return  to  El  Paso 
and  reach  our  rooms  it  is  midnight. 

THURSDAY,    MAY   13th. 

Arose  about  6.30  and  found  the  morning  clear  and 
warm.  There  are  many  wonderful,  strange,  and  un- 
usual things  in,  around,  and  about  El  Paso,  but  one 
of  the  most  puzzling  and  perplexing  things  is  its  time. 
Traveling  westward  you  arrive  on  Central  time  and  de- 
part on  Pacific,  a  difference  of  two  hours,  while  in 
the  city  they  use  local  time,  which  is  a  split  between 
the  two.  Over  the  river  in  Juarez  they  use  Mexican 
time.  Visited  a  barber  shop  for  a  shave,  then  a  res- 
taurant for  breakfast  and  got  another  shave;  I  was 
taxed  one  dollar  and  twenty  cents  for  breakfast  for  two. 
We  didn't  return  for  dinner. 

Those  of  our  party  who  did  not  visit  Juarez  last  even- 
ing attended  the  State  Firemen's  ball  and  banquet  un- 
der the  escort  of  Colonel  Whitmore,  Acting  Mayor  of 
El  Paso,  and  Chief  J.  J.  Connors,  of  the  city  fire  de- 
partment, and  they  all  speak  in  the  highest  terms  of 


46  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

the  royal  treatment  they  received  and  the  grand  time 
they  had.  The  city  of  El  Paso  contains  about  12,000 
inhabitants,  but  the  population  is  almost  double  that 
number  this  week,  which  gives  the  town  a  very  lively 
appearance.  We  learn  that  our  train  cannot  be  gotten 
over  the  washout  to-day,  and  arrangements  are  being 
made  to  remain  in  the  city  to-night.  Engaged  a  pleas- 
ant room  for  fifty  cents  per  day  at  the  "Wellington," 
corner  of  Staunton  and  Texas  Streets,  kept  by  Mrs. 
Whitmore;  quite  a  number  of  our  party  are  stopping 
here. 

Brother  Wyman  hired  a  horse  to-day  and  rode  in 
the  parade.  It  is  very  hot  in  the  sun.  Went  over  in 
front  of  the  Court  House  this  afternoon  to  see  the  fire- 
men race.  There  was  quite  an  exciting  time.  Brother 
Haas  was  there  with  his  kodak  and  had  a  narrow  es- 
cape from  being  run  over  in  trying  to  get  a  "snap"  at 
a  team  as  the  horses  galloped  past.  Had  a  pleasant 
chat  in  the  evening  with  Mr.  Pettus,  an  old  resident 
of  the  place,  who  has  a  furnishing  store  next  to  the 
"Wellington."  He  is  an  entertaining  man  and  gave 
some  interesting  information  relative  to  the  early  his- 
tory and  habits  of  the  country  and  people.  I  turned 
in  about  eleven  o'clock,  but  can't  speak  for  them  all, 
for  this  is  an  interesting  city. 

FRIDAY,    MAY    14th. 

Turn  out  this  morning  about  7.30  and  find  the 
weather  clear  and  warm.  We  go  to  a  nearby  restau- 
rant for  breakfast;  mutton  chops  are  one  of  the  items 
on  the  bill  of  fare,  and  we  are  pleased,  for  we  are  par- 
tial to  chops — nice,  juicy,  tender  mutton  chops;  but 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  47 

these  chops  do  not  quite  come  up  to  our  idea  of  what 
mutton  chops  should  be — not  so  juicy  nor  so  tender 
as  we  would  like;  but  being  hungry  we  quietly  and 
uncomplainingly  devour  what  is  set  before  us.  "Where 
do  you  people  in  El  Paso  get  your  mutton?"  I  inquired 
of  the  waiter  as  we  arose  from  the  table  (for  I  had  no 
recollection  of  seeing  a  sheep  since  we  entered  the  State 
of  Texas).  "Goats"  was  the  short  but  suggestive 
answer.  A  little  private  inquiry  elicited  the  information 
that  it  is  a  fact  that  the  greater  part  of  the  "mutton" 
consumed  in  El  Paso  is  a  product  of  the  goatherd. 
The  supply  is  apparently  inexhaustible,  for  thousands 
of  those  ruminating,  odoriferous  quadrupeds  can  be  seen 
roaming  the  adjacent  plains  and  plateaus  in  great  herds, 
attended  by  boys  and  dogs. 

Accompanied  Manager  Wyman  to  Superintendent 
Martin's  office,  where  we  learn  "that  there  is  no  pros- 
pect of  getting  our  train  across  the  washout  this  week. 
The  water  has  fallen  but  very  little,  and  while  we  are 
working  day  and  night,  endeavoring  to  close  the  break, 
our  progress  is  necessarily  slow  on  account  of  the 
action  of  the  high  water,  and  the  work  cannot  be  com- 
pleted sufficiently  to  get  our  train  across  until  the  wa- 
ter recedes.  And  no  one  knows,"  continued  Mr.  Mar- 
tin, "when  this  will  be,  for  the  water  is  just  as  likely 
to  rise  as  to  fall.  The  weather  has  been  very  hot  these 
last  few  days  and  has  melted  the  snow  in  the  mountains 
very  rapidly,  which  has  caused  the  high  water  here. 
When  the  snow  is  gone  the  water  will  fall,  so  you  see 
it  depends  upon  the  supply  of  snow,  of  which  we  know 
nothing  about.  If  you  wish  to  continue  on  your  jour- 
ney I  will  send  you  to  Los  Angeles  by  regular  train, 


48  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

and  when  we  succeed  in  getting  your  train  across  will 
send  it  on  after  you." 

Brother  Wyman  rather  favors  this  proposition,  -as  he 
desires  to  reach  Los  Angeles  before  the  Grand  Division 
adjourns,  but  the  majority  of  our  party  will  not  agree 
to  it,  preferring  to  remain  with  the  train  and  take  their 
chance  with  it;  so  the  idea  of  going  ahead  by  regular 
train  is  abandoned.  A  party  of  us  procured  a  four- 
horse  team  and  went  over  to  the  train  to-day,  some  to  re- 
main and  others  to  return.  Would  have  remained  had 
Mrs.  S.  been  along,  for  it  is  a  dreadful  hot  trip  of  two 
and  one-half  hours  across  that  burning  sand. 

We  found  our  train  sidetracked  at  Alfalfa,  one  mile 
east  of  the  washout,  and  had  one  mile  to  walk  after 
leaving  the  wagon.  Alfalfa  is  not  a  place — it  is  only 
a  name.  There  is  a  sidetrack  here  and  a  post  with  a 
board  on  it,  and  on  the  board  is  painted  in  large  black 
letters  the  word  ALFALFA.  That  is  all.  It  is  a  flag- 
stop  for  accommodation  trains,  but  there  is  no  station, 
not  even  a  shed,  a  platform,  nor  a  plank.  The  nearest 
civilized  communities  are  El  Paso,  7  miles  away  to  the 
west,  and  Fort  Bliss,  the  same  distance  to  the  north. 
On  the  east  end  of  the  same  sidetrack  where  our  train 
lies  are  a  number  of  cabooses  of  the  Texas  and  Pacific 
construction  train,  occupied  by  Mexican  families  whose 
husbands  and  fathers  are  working  on  the  repairs  at  the 
washout.  They  are  a  squalid,  uninviting-looking  set, 
but  seem  happy  and  contented  with  their  lot. 

Here  and  there  in  the  edge  of  a  sandbank  can  be 
seen  a  "dugout,"  or,  sheltered  in  a  mesquite  thicket, 
a  "shack"  occupied  by  the  same  nationality,  who  with 
their  goats  and  burros  are  very  pictures  of  meek  and 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  49 

lowly  contentment.  These  are  the  surroundings  in  the 
midst  of  which  we  are  sidetracked.  We  find  our  peo- 
ple (those  who  are  with  the  train)  with  smiles  upon 
their  faces  as  they  tell  us  they  are  "all  right"  and  are 
having  a  good  and  pleasant  time.  There  must  surely 
be  an  element  or  ingredient  in  this  desert  air  and  at- 
mosphere that  breeds  contentment  and  repose. 

Several  of  the  boys  went  over  to  the  train  and  back 
on  broncos  to-day,  and  experienced  a  hot  but  exhil- 
arating ride.  The  party  consisted  of  Brothers  Wad- 
dington,  Taylor,  Matthews,  Moore,  Mattson,  Leary,  and 
Elder,  who  all  claim  that  the  ride,  although  a  very  hot 
one,  was  rare  sport.  The  novel  experience  of  a  ride 
of  14  miles  on  a  fiery,  wiry  Texan  horse  is  a  feature 
of  their  visit  to  El  Paso  that  will  not  be  forgotten. 

Brother  Wyman  remained  at  Alfalfa  to  watch  the 
progress  of  repairs  at  the  washout,  and  I  returned  in 
the  wagon  to  El  Paso.  Dining-car  Conductor  Mc- 
Donald accompanied  us;  he  was  looking  for  a  wagon- 
load  of  supplies  for  his  car  from  El  Paso  that  had  not 
arrived.  When  about  half  way  across  the  plateau  we 
met  the  team.  Mr.  McDonald  interviewed  the  driver 
to  ascertain  if  his  wagon  was  loaded  with  what  had 
been  ordered  and  found  everything  satisfactory. 

As  we  leave  behind  us  the  hot,  suffocating  desert 
trail  we  pass  close  to  the  base  of  Mt.  Franklin,  in  the 
shadow  of  which  El  Paso  lies,  and  crossing  the  railroad 
tracks  of  the  Fort  Bliss  Branch  we  feel  a  deep  sense  of 
relief  as  we  strike  the  hard,  smooth  street  that  leads 
us  into  the  city's  welcome  shade  and  rest. 

Learning  on  our  arrival  back  that  the  El  Paso  Tele- 
graph, a  morning  paper,  contained  an  account  of  our 


52  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

scorching  desert  plateau.  The  party  consists  of  nine, 
including  the  driver,  in  a  large  transfer  coach  drawn 
by  two  horses.  To  relieve  the  overburdened  animals, 
the  men  walk  part  of  the  way  and  keep  a  sharp  lookout 
for  rattlesnakes,  for  the  driver  had  hinted  that  we  might 
encounter  some,  as  they  are  known  to  be  quite  numer- 
ous in  this  locality.  Two  large  snakes  of  an  unknown 
species  were  seen;  one  glided  into  a  hole  in  the  side 
of  the  bank  of  a  deep  arroyo,  and  we  did  not  go  to 
look  for  him;  the  other  was  discovered  lying  quietly 
behind  a  large  sage  bush  by  one  of  the  "boys,"  who 
silently  imparted  the  information  to  the  rest. 

We  gathered  around,  and  looking  where  he  pointed, 
saw  a  portion  of  his  snakeship's  form  through  a  small 
opening  in  the  bush.  "Think  it  would  be  safe  to  shoot 
at  him?"  whispered  the  discoverer  of  the  snake,  as  he 
clutched  his  ever-ready  revolver  in  his  grasp.  "Yes; 
blaze  away,"  answered  a  chorus  of  low  voices.  Bang! 
went  the  pistol,  and  we  saw  the  snake  slightly  move, 
but  it  did  not  run  away.  "I  hit  him,"  exclaimed  our 
brother  with  the  pistol;  and  we  all  moved  cautiously 
around  the  bush  to  investigate.  There  he  was,  sure 
enough,  a  greenish-striped  fellow  about  six  feet  long, 
but  he  had  no  head,  and  from  his  appearance  it  had 
been  three  or  four  days  since  he  had  lost  it.  Our 
marksman's  ball  had  struck  the  ground  just  underneath 
the  body  and  turned  it  partly  over,  which  movement 
had  deceived  us.  I  will  say  no  more  about  it  lest  you 
guess  who  did  the  shooting;  not  that  I  think  he  would 
care,  for  mistakes  are  being  made  every  day  by  some 
of  us  that  are  worse  than  shooting  dead  snakes. 

Arriving  at  our  train  about  noon,  after  an  absence 


FLOODED   DISTRICT,    ALFALFA,    TEXAS. 


WRECKED   BY  TRAIN   ROBBERS   ON   SOUTHERN   PACIFIC   RAILWAY. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  53 

of  three  days,  brings  with  it  a  feeling  of  relief,  similar 
to  getting  home  again.  The  majority  of  the  party  had 
preceded  us,  a  number  having  come  over  yesterday. 
All  express  themselves  as  being  glad  to  get  back  to 
the  train,  notwithstanding  its  uninviting  surroundings 
and  isolated  condition.  What  we  all  appreciate  very 
much  and  what  goes  far  toward  breaking  the  monotony 
of  the  situation  is  the  fact  that  nearly  all  the  Texas 
and  Pacific  and  Southern  Pacific  trains  stop  here,  and 
are  very  kind  in  furnishing  us  with  water  and  ice  when 
we  need  it. 

Yesterday  afternoon  a  Southern  Pacific  train  stopped 
here  that  had  been  held  up  by  train  robbers  a  few  miles 
east  of  Sierra  Blanca.  The  safe  in  the  express  car  was 
blown  open  with  dynamite  and  robbed  of  a  large  amount 
of  money.  The  train  was  held  for  one  and  a  half  hours 
while  the  work  was  being  done.  The  passengers  on  the 
train  were  not  molested.  Some  of  our  party  entered 
the  car  and  examined  the  wrecked  safe,  which  was  blown 
almost  into  fragments.  A  portion  of  the  car  roof  was 
torn  off  by  the  force  of  the  explosion  and  pieces  of  the 
safe  were  found  in  the  sides  and  ends  of  the  car.  A 
parrot  and  a  rooster  in  the  car  lost  nearly  all  their 
"feathers,  but  otherwise  were  apparently  uninjured.  Sev- 
eral of  our  party  obtained  parrot  and  rooster  feathers 
and  pieces  of  the  safe  as  souvenirs.  The  Texan  Rangers, 
we  are  told,  are  hot  on  the  trail  of  the  outlaws. 

Manager  Wyman  has  just  returned  from  the  washout 
and  brings  no  encouragement.  "The  break  cannot  be 
repaired  until  the  water  falls  two  feet,"  says  Brother  Wy- 
man, "and  it  shows  no  disposition  to  fall."  "Give  me 
two  hundred  men  and  the  material  to  bridge  those 


54  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

arroyos  and  lay  the  track  and  I  will  have  a  railroad  from 
here  into  El  Paso  across  that  desert  plateau  inside  the 
time  they  have  been  waiting  for  this  water  to  fall,"  ex- 
claimed Brother  Sloane,  spiritedly.  "They  won't  leave 
you  do  it,  Charlie,"  said  Brother  Terry,  sympathetically. 
The  arrival  of  six  more  of  our  people  from  El  Paso  and 
the  announcement  of  dinner  at  the  same  time  prevented 
further  conversation  in  this  direction. 

We  were  favored  with  a  light  shower  in  the  afternoon, 
which  evidently  stirred  up  the  mosquitoes,  for  they  are 
very  numerous  and  aggressive  this  evening.  This  is  a 
beautiful  night.  It  is  the  full  of  the  moon,  and  the  clear, 
marvelous  light  it  sheds  is  the  most  wonderful  moonlight 
we  have  ever  seen;  so  clear,  so  bright,  and  yet  so  soft; 
no  one  can  describe  it,  for  it  is  simply  indescribable. 
Objects  can  be  discerned  at  a  remarkable  distance,  and 
Mt.  Franklin,  six  miles  away,  looms  up  to  the  vision 
dark,  grim,  and  majestic. 

As  our  party  one  by  one  retire  to  their  berths  there  is 
not  a  mind  among  them  all  but  what  is  impressed  with 
the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  night,  the  silence  and 
serenity  of  which  is  broken  only  by  the  occasional  bark- 
ing of  a  watchful  Mexican  dog  or  the  quarrelsome  snarl- 
ing of  thieving  coyotes. 

SUNDAY,    MAY   16th. 

To-day  is  clear  and  warm,  with  a  delightful  breeze 
stirring.  We  avoid  the  hot  glare  of  the  sun  by  remain- 
ing as  much  as  possible  on  the  shady  side  of  the  train. 
There  are  remarkable  conditions  of  climate  here.  In 
the  sun  the  heat  is  distressing,  almost  unbearable;  in  the 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  55 

shade  it  is  more  than  comfortable,  almost  luxurious, 
producing  a  feeling  of  exuberant  pleasure  and  vitality 
that  is  difficult  to  express  or  understand.  There  was  a 
light  thunder  shower  during  the  night,  which  no  doubt 
had  a  tendency  to  further  clarify  and  rarify  this  wonder- 
ful atmosphere.  We  are  making  the  best  of  the  situa- 
tion; have  plenty  to  eat  and  drink,  but  there  is  a  scarcity 
of  water  for  washing  purposes,  although  large  irrigating 
ditches  are  close  to  hand,  but  the  waters  are  too  muddy 
for  use. 

About  noon  a  Southern  Pacific  work  train  came  along 
and  supplied  our  cars  with  water,  which  is  hauled  in 
large  wooden  tanks  holding  about  4000  gallons  each. 
It  is  brought  from  Lasca,  about  70  miles  east  of  Alfalfa. 
S.  P.  engine  No.  904  is  drawing  the  train  which  is  sup- 
plying us  with  water,  Engineer  John  Condon,  Conductor 
G.  M.  Seamonds,  Brakemen  J.  M.  Bates  and  Charles 
McDonald,  who  are  very  kind  and  obliging,  carefully 
supplying  each  car  with  all  the  water  needed.  Manager 
Wyman  has  just  received  a  telegram  from  Superintend- 
ent Martin  saying  that  the  break  situation  is  not  im- 
proving, and  suggests  that  our  committee  make  arrange- 
ments to  go  some  other  way. 

Brakeman  Charles  Gunning,  who  has  been  with  us 
since  we  left  Ft.  Worth,  made  suggestions  to  our  com- 
mittee which  were  immediately  taken  up,  viz.,  that  we  re- 
turn to  Sierra  Blanca  and  from  there  take  the  Southern 
Pacific  to  Spofford  Junction,  thence  over  Eagle  Pass 
and  the  Mexican  International  to  Torreon,  then  up  over 
the  Mexican  Central  to  El  Paso,  making  a  triangle  trip 
of  about  1450  miles.  The  committee  immediately  set 
out  to  communicate  with  the  railroad  officials,  and  we 


56  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

are  all  waiting 'anxiously  to  know  the  result  of  the  con- 
ference. 

In  the  meantime  work  at  the  washout  must  have  pro- 
gressed with  remarkable  rapidity,  for  some  one  just  from 
there  brings  the  highly  encouraging  report  that  the 
break  in  the  track  is  trestled  over  and  the  prospect  of 
getting  us  away  soon  is  good.  This  report  comes  less 
than  three  hours  after  Manager  Wyman  had  received  a 
message  from  Superintendent  Martin  saying  "he  could 
give  us  no  hope;  that  we  had  better  go  some  other  way." 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  we  are  doubtful  of  the  good  news 
and  regard  it  as  a  fake?  But  it  is  true,  nevertheless,  for 
Brothers  Wyman  and  Maxwell  have  just  returned  and 
verify  the  report,  adding  "that  if  the  water  does  not  rise 
again  we  will  go  out  of  here  to-morrow." 

Brothers  Wyman,  Maxwell,  Sheppard,  Gilliland,  and 
myself  walked  down  to  the  washout  this  evening  and 
came  back  in  the  caboose  of  the  work  train.  It  is  about 
three  miles  from  where  our  train  lies  to  the  break  in  the 
track  that  has  caused  so  much  labor  and  anxiety.  The 
greater  part  of  this  work  is  performed  by  Mexicans,  and 
they  have  been  working  day  and  night,  much  of  the  time 
up  to  the  waist  in  water,  in  order  to  get  the  break  re- 
paired. More  of  our  party  came  over  from  El  Paso 
this  evening;  they  are  all  over  now  but  two  or  three. 
Brothers  Haas  and  Smith  and  Mrs.  Smith  went  over  to 
El  Paso  to-day  to  go  by  regular  train  to  Los  Angeles. 

When  Brother  John  Reilly  came  over  to  the  train  he 
brought  with  him  a  very  much  corroded  revolver,  pre- 
sented as  a  souvenir  to  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  con- 
ductors' excursion  party  by  Col.  Si  Ryan.  The  revolver 
belonged  to  George  Daley,  mining  engineer,  of  Lake 


WILLIAM  J.    MAXWELL,    OF   THE   COMMITTEE. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  57 

Valley,  New  Mexico,  who  was  killed  by  Indians  Septem- 
ber 9th,  1878.  The  revolver  was  found  on  the  alkali 
plains  where  Engineer  Daley  met  his  death.  The  alkali 
had  eaten  off  all  the  woodwork  and  corroded  with  rust 
the  iron.  It  is  an  interesting  relic  and  highly  valued  as  a 
souvenir. 

The  "boys"  have  been  patrolling  the  train  at  night 
since  we  have  been  sidetracked  here.  I  have  volun- 
teered to  go  on  second  watch  to-night,  and  turned  in  at 
eleven  o'clock,  expecting  to  be  called  at  2  A.  M.  for 
patrol  duty. 

MONDAY,    MAY    17th. 

Awakened  at  2.30  this  morning  by  Brother  George 
Dale,  and  with  Brother  Sam  Horner  go  on  duty  to 
watch  and  to  wait  for  morning  to  come.  There  is  noth- 
ing else  for  us  to  do;  all  is  quiet  outside  and  around  the 
train  as  we  promenade  back  and  forth  on  the  alert  for 
anything  of  a  suspicious  nature.  The  morning  is  clear 
and  bright  and  the  air  cool  and  refreshing.  Brother 
Kilgore,  who  sleeps  near  the  roof  in  the  car  "Milton,"  is 
doing  some  vigorous  snoring,  and  Brother  Houston,  in 
the  rear  of  the  "Orchis,"  is  talking  earnestly  in  his  sleep. 
We  catch  an  occasional  glimpse  of  a  skulking  dog  or 
coyote  seeking  for  food  amongst  the  scraps  thrown  from 
the  train,  but  no  marauder  appears  to  molest  us.  A 
heavy  44-caliber  six-shooter,  presented  to  the  writer 
just  before  starting  on  the  trip  by  Lyttleton  Johnson, 
Esq.,  of  Chadd's  Ford,  Pa.,  has  been  at  the  service  of  our 
watchmen,  and  we  feel  that  we  are  well  armed.  When 
not  in  possession  of  the  watchmen,  Baggagemaster 
George  Anderson  sleeps  with  it  under  his  pillow. 


58  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

The  coming  of  day  and  the  stir  of  the  occupants  of 
the  cars  relieve  us  from  duty,  and  we  strike  out  through 
the  mesquite  thicket  to  reconnoitre  and  obtain  a  view  of 
our  surroundings.  Less  than  200  yards  from  the  train 
we  come  to  a  deep,  wide,  irrigating  canal,  through  which 
the  muddy  water  is  rushing  in  a  torrent.  We  can  go 
no  further  in  this  direction  and  conclude  to  follow  the 
stream  in  quest  of  a  bridge.  We  go  but  a  short  distance 
when  the  thicket  becomes  impenetrable,  and  we  retreat, 
and  cutting  a  cane  from  the  thicket  as  a  memento  of  our 
little  walk,  we  return  to  the  train,  glad  to  find  that  break- 
fast is  ready  and  to  learn  that  an  effort  will  be  made  to 
get  us  over  the  break  to-day. 

Brother  Wyman  has  been  closely  watching  the  prog- 
ress of  the  repairs,  and  under  the  supervision  of  Master 
Mechanic  H.  Small,  the  work  these  last  two  days  has 
made  very  rapid  advancement.  The  sun  is  scorching 
hot  and  the  forenoon  is  spent  by  the  party  sitting  in 
groups  in  the  shadow  of  the  train  discussing  the  various 
features  of  the  situation,  and  many  are  the  surmises  as 
to  what  will  be  the  result  of  an  attempt  to  cross  that  sea 
of  water  over  the  repaired  and  trestled  tracks  with  a 
train  of  cars  of  such  weight  as  ours.  We  feel  that  the 
risk  is  great,  but  realize  the  effort  to  get  us  over  is  to  be 
made,  when  about  i  P.  M.  S.  P.  engine  No.  719,  in 
charge  of  Engineer  M.  Love,  is  run  in  against  our  train 
and  we  are  pushed,  with  six  construction  cars  ahead  of 
us,  out  on  the  main  track  and  up  toward  the  flooded 
district.  Conductor  J.  H.  Ludwig  has  charge  of  the 
train,  and  in  him  Mrs.  Ed.  Foster  recognizes  a  cousin 
whom  she  had  not  seen  for  many  years.  The  recogni- 
tion is  mutual  and  the  meeting  a  happy  one.  The 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  59 

knowledge  that  the  conductor  is  related  to  and  person- 
ally known  by  a  member  of  our  party  creates  a  feeling 
of  confidence  that  almost  assures  our  safe  deliverance. 

We  have  now  reached  high  water  and  our  train  is  be- 
ing slowly  pushed  farther  and  farther  into  a  gurgling, 
surging,  muddy  flood  until  the  dreaded  break  is  reached, 
with  miles  of  water  all  around  us.  The  repaired  track, 
propped  and  trestled,  settles  and  sinks  out  of  sight  when 
it  receives  the  weight  of  the  cars,  that  toss  and  roll  and 
creak  in  a  manner  which,  if  it  does  not  frighten  us,  fills 
us  with  much  concern,  for  we  are  afraid  we  will  lose  our 
train  in  the  flood.  A  sudden  stop,  caused  by  the  burst- 
ing of  an  air-brake  hose  on  the  engine,  fills  us  with 
alarm.  "We  are  lost,"  murmured  Mrs.  Maxwell,  and 
her  face  wore  a  frightened  look.  "Not  yet,"  replied 
Brother  Schuler,  and  his  assurance  gave  us  comfort;  but 
the  few  minutes  delay  caused  by  the  accident  was  almost 
fatal,  for  our  heavy  dining  car  had  settled  until  its  wheels 
were  covered  with  water  and  the  repairsmen  thought  a 
rail  had  broken  beneath  its  weight.  In  water  almost  up 
to  their  necks  the  men  made  an  examination  of  the  track 
under  the  car  and  found  it  intact. 

The  signal  was  given  to  move  ahead,  and  as  slowly  the 
sunken  car  comes  into  position,  hearts  become  lighter 
and  faces  grow  brighter;  the  dreadful  suspense  is  over, 
and  we  give  more  attention  to  our  surroundings.  We 
see  many  fine  residences  surrounded  by  water,  and  large 
fields  of  grain  inundated  and  ruined.  We  are  two  hours 
coming  through  the  four  miles  of  high  water.  Slowly 
and  carefully  we  are  safely  brought  through,  and  all  con- 
cerned are  entitled  to  the  highest  praise  for  the  able  and 
judicious  manner  in  which  the  train  was  handled. 


60  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Arriving  at  the  Southern  Pacific  station  in  El  Paso 
about  three  o'clock,  and  finding  we  have  an  hour  before 
leaving,  many  avail  themselves  of  the  opportunity  of 
taking  a  parting  look  at  this  interesting  city  and  bid- 
ding adieu  to  the  many  kind  friends  who  have  done  so 
much  toward  making  our  forced  stay  a  pleasant  and 
happy  one.  Four  of  our  party,  under  the  escort  of 
Brother  Sloane,  have  taken  a  trip  over  to  Juarez,  and 
much  uneasiness  and  concern  is  felt  for  them,  as  the 
time  is  up  for  our  train  to  go  and  they  have  not  returned. 
The  engine  whistle  is  sounded  long  and  loud  to  call 
them  in,  but  they  do  not  come.  "They  have  gone  over 
there  to  make  some  purchases,"  asserts  Brother  Shep- 
pard,  "and  I  fear  have  been  arrested  for  trying  to  evade 
the  customs  laws."  "No  fear  of  that,"  replies  Captain 
Purcell,  who  has  charge  of  our  train,  "you  may  rest  as- 
sured that  no  member  of  your  party  will  be  molested  by 
the  customs  officers.  The  courtesy  and  freedom  of  the 
cities  of  El  Paso  and  Juarez  have  been  extended  to  you, 
and  the  badge  you  wear  is  a  guarantee  of  your  safety." 
"Yes,"  adds  Col.  Si  Ryan,  who  is  on  hand  to  see  us  off, 
"Diaz  wouldn't  allow  any  of  you  Pennsylvanians  pinched 
if  you  should  carry  off  the  whole  State  of  Chihuahua,  for 
his  Honor  thinks  Pennsylvania  the  greatest  and  best 
State  of  the  Union,  with  the  exception,  of  course,  of 
Texas,"  and  there  is  a  proud,  faraway  look  in  the 
Colonel's  eye  as  he  contemplates  the  enormous  area  and 
the  illimitable  possibilities  of  the  great  Lone  Star  State. 
Notwithstanding  the  assurance  of  Captain  Purcell  and 
Colonel  Ryan,  Brother  Post  is  very  much  concerned, 
for  Miss  Ella  is  with  the  absent  party,  and  he  has  gone 
to  look  for  them.  Brothers  Moore  and  Dougherty  have 


COL.    SI    RYAN. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  6l 

taken  advantage  of  the  delay  and  are  off  looking  for 
souvenirs.  Those  who  are  waiting  for  the  return  of  the 
absent  ones  are  growing  very  impatient,  and  when  at 
last  they  are  seen  coming,  impatience  and  uneasiness 
give  way  to  feelings  of  relief  and  gladness,  and  Brother 
Sloane  is  forgiven  once  more  on  the  plea  "that  it  was  a 
misunderstanding  of  the  time  that  caused  the  trouble," 
and  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  "El  Paso  time  is  one  of 
the  most  confusing  problems  that  ever  worried  a 
tourist." 

The  deep-toned  engine  bell  peals  out  the  warning  that 
the  train  is  about  to  start;  "All  aboard"  is  shouted,  the 
last  hand  shake  is  given,  and  at  5.45  (2.45  Pacific)  P.  M., 
just  five  days,  six  hours,  and  forty-five  minutes  late,  our 
train  rolled  out  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Station  and 
across  the  Rio  Grande,  leaving  behind  the  pretty  and  in- 
teresting city  of  El  Paso  and  our  many  new-found 
friends,  whose  liberality  and  kindness  will  ever  remain 
a  pleasant  and  happy  memory  with  us.  Our  train  is 
drawn  by  S.  P.  engine  No.  1395,  in  charge  of  Engineer 
Joseph  Bird  and  fired  by  J.  V.  Paul,  who  accompany  us 
to  Tucson,  312  miles.  Conductor  T.  H.  Purcell  and 
Brakeman  E.  G.  Shaub  go  with  us  to  Yuma,  563  miles. 

We  are  in  New  Mexico,  having  entered  it  when  we 
crossed  the  Rio  Grande  River.  The  country  is  wild  and 
barren  and  the  railroad  very  crooked.  Engineer  Bird, 
in  his  eagerness  to  make  up  the  lost  time,  is  running  at 
a  speed  which  Manager  Wyman  thinks  is  not  consistent 
with  safety.  The  cars  rock  and  roll  in  an  alarming  man- 
ner, and  several  dishes  have  been  broken  in  the  dining 
car,  which  calls  forth  a  protest  from  our  friend  McDon- 
ald of  that  most  cherished  department.  Brother  Wy- 


62  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

man  immediately  requests  Conductor  Purcell  to  instruct 
the  engineer  to  reduce  speed,  which  is  done,  much  to  the 
relief  and  comfort  of  all  on  board.  Brother  Joseph 
Flory,  of  St.  Louis  Division  No.  3,  State  Railroad  and 
Warehouse  Commissioner,  of  Jefferson  City,  Mo.,  and 
Harry  Steere,  Esq.,  traveling  passenger  agent  of  the 
Southern  Pacific  Railroad,  are  our  guests  from  El  Paso 
to  Los  Angeles,  and  a  much  appreciated  acquisition  to 
our  party. 

They  have  a  fund  of  useful  and  interesting  informa- 
tion on  hand  pertaining  to  the  country  through  which 
we  are  passing,  which  they  impart  to  us  in  a  pleasant  and 
entertaining  manner.  "What  place  is  this,  Mr.  Steere?" 
we  inquire  as  a  pretty  little  town  bursts  upon  our  vision. 
"This  is  Deeming,"  replies  Mr.  Steere,  "and  it  is  quite 
an  important  place.  We  are  now  88  miles  from  El  Paso, 
and  this  is  the  first  town  we  have  seen.  A  few  years  ago 
it  was  as  barren  and  uninhabitable  here  as  any  of  the 
desolate  country  through  which  we  have  passed,  but 
good  water  was  discovered  a  few  feet  below  the  surface 
of  the  ground,  and  now  the  place  is  noted  for  its  many 
wells  of  fine  water,  which  is  shipped  for  hundreds  of 
miles  and  is  also  used  for  irrigating  purposes,  for  noth- 
ing will  grow  throughout  this  region  unless  it  is  artifi- 
cially watered.  The  thrifty  young  shade  trees,  the  shrub- 
bery and  patches  of  verdant  vegetation  you  noticed  as 
we  passed  through  Deeming  is  convincing  evidence  that 
all  this  region  needs,  to  make  it  one  of  the  most  fertile 
and  productive  countries  in  the  world,  is  plenty  of 
water." 

For  60  miles  further  we  pass  through  this  region  of 
desert  plateaus  known  as  the  plains  of  Deeming.  The 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  63 

dust  is  almost  suffocating  and  sifts  through  every  crack 
and  crevice,  the  double,  almost  air-tight,  windows  of  the 
Pullmans  being  insufficiently  close  to  keep  it  out.  At 
the  little  station  of  Lordsburg,  60  miles  from  Deeming, 
Engineer  Bird  stops  to  water  his  iron  horse.  "This 
supply  of  water,"  remarked  Mr.  Steere,  "is  brought  here 
in  pipes  from  a  large  spring  or  lake  in  yonder  mountain, 
five  miles  away." 

Looking  in  the  direction  indicated,  we  can  see 
through  the  gathering  dusk  of  evening  the  dark  out- 
lines of  a  mountain  in  the  distance.  '  Tis  a  pity,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Steere,  "that  you  were  not  enabled  to  pass 
through  this  section  during  daylight,  for  there  are  some 
things  I  should  like  you  to  see.  We  are  drawing  near 
the  Arizona  line,  and  the  scenery  is  becoming  more 
broken  and  varied.  Those  mountains  which  you  can 
dimly  discern  on  your  right  are  composed  of  cliffs  and 
crags  of  reddish  rock  of  a  peculiar  and  interesting  forma- 
tion. On  the  left  the  great  San  Simon  Valley  stretches 
away  to  the  south  for  a  distance  of  75  or  80  miles,  and 
is  the  grazing  ground  for  many  thousands  of  cattle. 
One  company  alone,  the  San  Simon  Cattle  Company,  it 
is  said,  has  a  herd  of  nearly  100,000  head."  "What  do 
they  feed  on,  Mr.  Steere?"  I  asked,  for  visions  of  the 
dust-environed  plains  of  Deeming  were  still  floating  in 
my  mind.  "This  great  valley,"  answered  Mr.  Steere, 
"through  the  northern  boundary  of  which  we  are  now 
passing,  is  not  nearly  so  dry  as  the  more  elevated 
country  through  which  we  have  passed.  There  are  oc- 
casionally short  periods  of  wet  weather  which  produces 
pasture  very  rapidly,  the  pasture  consisting  chiefly  of 
what  is  known  through  here  as  gama  grass,  which  grows 


64  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

very  fast  and  luxuriant  and  possesses  great  feeding 
qualities.  The  strangest  but  most  valuable  feature  of 
this  peculiar  vegetation  is  that  it  retains  all  its  sweetness 
and  nutrition  after  it  is  dead  and  brown,  and  stock  feed 
upon  it  with  as  much  avidity  in  a  dry  and  sapless  condi- 
tion as  they  do  when  they  find  it  in  the  green  and  juicy 
stage  of  life  and  growth. 

"Away  to  the  south,  bounding  this  immense  valley,  is 
a  wild  and  rocky  range  of  the  Chiricahua  Mountains, 
said  to  be  from  time  immemorial  the  rendezvous  of 
renegades  and  desperadoes,  one  of  the  most  noted  being 
an  outlaw  Apache  Indian  called  the  'Arizona  Kid/ 
whose  depredations  and  crimes  were  a  terror  to  all  the 
surrounding  country.  And  were  it  only  light,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Steere,  "I  would  show  you  one  of  the  most 
notable  landmarks  on  the  Southern  Pacific  Road.  Away 
over  to  the  south  there,  clearly  outlined  against  the  sky, 
is  a  mountain  formation  that  plainly  resembles  the  up- 
turned profile  of  a  human  face.  It  is  called  'Cochise's 
Head/  bearing  a  strong  likeness,  it  is  said,  to  Cochise, 
the  most  noted  chieftain  of  the  Apache  tribe." 

We  have  now  reached  what  is  known  as  "Territorial 
Line,"  about  midway  between  the  little  stations  of  Stein's 
Pass  and  San  Simon.  Conductor  Purcell  kindly  stops 
the  train  at  this  point,  giving  those  who  wish  the  oppor- 
tunity and  privilege  of  gathering  some  mementoes  of  the 
occasion  and  locality.  I  look  at  my  watch;  it  is  11.20 
P.  M.  "Philadelphia"  time,  8.20  P.  M.  "Territorial  Line" 
time;  it  is  pretty  dark  for  the  business  on  hand,  but  the 
post  that  marks  the  dividing  line  is  easily  found,  and  in 
a  very  short  time  is  so  badly  cut  and  splintered  by  the 
relic  hunters  that  it  looks  as  though  it  had  been  struck  by 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  65 

lightning.  Several  standing  astride  the  designated  and 
imaginary  dividing  line  picked  pebbles  from  New 
Mexico  and  Arizona  at  the  same  time.  In  five  minutes 
we  are  on  our  way  again,  and  in  a  short  time  thereafter 
the  snores  of  the  tourists  heard  above  the  rumble  of  the 
train  proclaim  that  "the  weary  are  at  rest." 

TUESDAY,  MAY    18th. 

Got  up  this  morning  about  the  usual  time  and  found 
that  we  had  passed  Tucson  in  the  early  part  of  the 
morning  and  had  changed  engines  at  that  point.  We 
have  now  S.  P.  engine  No.  9030,  Engineer  J.  W. 
Bunce  and  Fireman  J.  Weir,  who  run  us  to  Yuma,  a 
distance  of  251  miles.  It  cannot  always  be  day,  nor 
we  cannot  always  be  awake,  so  when  night  comes  and 
we  sleep  we  miss  much  that  is  novel  and  interesting. 
"You  have  missed  much  since  entering  Arizona  that 
is  well  worth  seeing,"  I  hear  Mr.  Steere  remark  to 
several  of  the  party  with  whom  he  is  conversing  as  I 
enter  the  smoker.  "During  the  night  we  have  passed 
through  the  most  wonderful  cactus  country  in  the  world, 
many  of  the  plants  rising  to  the  height  of  thirty  and 
forty  feet;  but  you  will  see  similar  plants  should  you 
pass  through  the  Antelope  Valley,  Cal.,  in  daytime  after 
leaving  Los  Angeles.  You  also  missed  seeing  the  town 
of  Benson,  which  is  one  of  the  important  places  on 
this  line,  where  we  connect  with  the  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona  and  the  Arizona  and  Southwestern  Railroads; 
and  it  is  really  too  bad  that  you  did  not  get  at  least  a 
passing  look  at  Tucson,  for  there  is  only  one  Tucson 
in  the  world.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  and  queerest  places 


66  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

in  the  United  States,  and  a  place  with  a  history.  The 
population  is  estimated  to  be  about  8000,  and  nearly 
all  of  the  residences  are  of  adobe  construction.  Claims 
are  made  that  it  was  first  settled  by  the  Spanish  in 
1560."  A  call  to  breakfast  interrupted  Mr.  Steere's  in- 
teresting talk  as  we  all  make  a  break  for  the  dining  car. 

All  the  morning  we  have  been  descending  the  Gila 
River  Valley,  and  the  picturesque,  complex  scenery  of 
mountain,  plain,  and  valley  has  been  much  enjoyed  by 
all.  As  we  approach  Yuma,  situated  on  the  Colorado 
River,  in  the  extreme  southwestern  corner  of  Arizona, 
we  can  scarcely  realize  that  in  the  251  miles  we  have 
come  since  leaving  Tucson  we  have  dropped  from  an 
altitude  of  2390  feet  to  that  of  140  feet,  the  elevation 
of  Yuma,  but  such  is  the  case,  according  to  the  figures 
given  on  the  time  table  of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad 
which  I  hold  in  my  hand,  and  which  Captain  Purcell 
and  Mr.  Steere  both  declare  is  correct  beyond  a  shadow 
of  doubt,  adding  "that  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad 
Company  was  never  known  to  publish  a  falsehood  or 
make  a  mistake." 

We  arrive  at  Yuma  12.30  P.  M.  Eastern  (9.30  A.  M. 
Pacific),  and  make  a  stop  of  fifteen  minutes.  The  sta- 
tion is  a  low-built,  commodious  building,  surrounded 
on  three  sides  by  extensive  grounds  in  which  flowers 
are  blooming  in  profusion.  A  number  of  bouquets 
were  gathered  by  the  ladies.  Several  native  Indians 
are  about  the  station  having  for  sale  trinkets  and  toys 
of  their  own  manufacture.  It  is  a  strange  and  novel 
sight  to  behold  these  old  remnants  of  an  almost  ex- 
tinct race  and  tribe  dressed  in  the  scant  and  grotesque 
garb  of  their  nativity,  with  their  faces  and  the  exposed 


ARIZONA    LANDSCAPE. 


"  YUMA   BILL,"    INDIAN   CHIEF   AT   YUMA,    OVER    IOO   YEARS  OLD. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  67 

parts  of  their  limbs  and  bodies  painted  and  tattooed  with 
bright  and  varied  colors,  increasing  tenfold  their  natural 
ugliness,  which  showing  to  its  best  advantage,  unassisted 
by  art,  is  far  above  par.  Yuma  Bill,  the  biggest,  oldest, 
and  ugliest  of  the  lot,  seems  to  claim  the  most  attention, 
and  as  I  see  him  coming  down  the  station  platform 
and  entering  the  waiting-room  door,  bareheaded  and 
barefooted,  with  a  bright-striped  blanket  about  him,  I 
think  of  Mark  Twain's  story  of  his  visit  to  the  camp 
of  Sitting  Bull.  "The  old  chief  saw  me  coming,"  says 
Mark,  "and  he  came  to  meet  me.  I  had  pictured  him 
in  my  mind  as  an  old  warrior  covered  with  glory;  I 
found  him  clothed  with  the  nobility  of  his  race,  assisted 
by  an  old  horse  blanket,  one  corner  of  which  hid  his 
approach  and  the  other  corner  covered  his  retreat." 
Similar  characters  are  Yuma  Bill  and  his  pals,  and  if 
ever  "Mark"  encounters  them  he  will  be  strongly  re- 
minded of  his  notable  interview  with  the  famous  Sitting 
Bull. 

We  all  buy  trinkets  of  Bill,  for  we  never  expect  to 
see  him  again  and  we  don't  want  to  forget  him.  We 
are  told  that  he  is  a  good  old  Indian,  but  was  not  always 
so.  Years  ago,  when  there  were  battles  to  be  won, 
Bill  made  a  record  as  a  fighter.  He  will  fight  no  more; 
there  are  only  a  few  of  him  left;  and  Uncle  Sam  has 
given  him  and  his  comrades  a  refuge  in  a  little  reserva- 
tion across  the  river  where  they  hope  to  live  and  die  in 
quietness  and  peace. 

A  short  distance  back  of  the  station  can  be  seen  the 
territorial  prison  or  penitentiary,  on  a  bluff  overlooking 
the  Colorado  River.  We  thought  it  was  a  fort  until 
told  that  it  was  a  prison.  Our  train  is  about  to  start, 


68  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

and  we  find  a  large  car  or  tank  of  water  attached  on 
the  front  end  next  the  engine  and  a  freight  caboose  on 
the  rear.  We  find  that  a  freight  crew  has  charge  of 
us,  that  the  tank  of  water  will  be  needed  to  supply  the 
engine,  as  there  is  a  run  of  120  miles  through  a  country 
devoid  of  water,  and  that  the  crew  will  need  the  ca- 
boose when  they  leave  us,  for  they  expect  to  take  back 
from  Indio  a  train  of  freight.  We  have  S.  P.  engine 
No.  1609,  with  Engineer  W.  Hayes  at  the  throttle,  fired 
by  George  Mclntyre,  Conductor  H.  J.  Williams,  Brake- 
men  H.  J.  Schulte  and  R.  M.  Armour.  As  our  train 
moves  slowly  off  across  the  bridge  that  spans  the  Col- 
orado we  take  a  last  look  at  Yuma  and  its  picturesque 
surroundings,  and  in  two  minutes  we  are  in  California 
and  crossing  the  Colorado  Desert. 

We  are  disappointed.  We  thought  California  a  land 
of  beauty,  fertility,  and  flowers — a  desert  waste  is  all 
we  see,  bald  mountains  and  barren  plains  on  every  side. 
Our  course  is  upward  for  about  25  miles,  until  an  eleva- 
tion of  400  feet  is  reached,  and  then  we  begin  to  descend, 
and  when  we  pass  the  little  station  of  Flowing  Well, 
60  miles  west  of  Yuma,  we  are  only  five  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Ten  miles  farther  we  stop  at  Vol- 
cano Springs  and  are  225  feet  below  the  sea  level. 
After  leaving  Flowing  Well  our  attention  was  called 
by  Mr.  Steere  to  what  was  apparently  a  large  lake  of 
clear,  sparkling  water  ahead,  and  to  the  left  of  our 
train,  about  half  a  mile  away.  We  were  running  toward 
it  but  got  no  closer  to  it.  It  remained  there,  the  same 
distance  from  us,  a  bright,  sparkling,  rippling  body  of 
water;  not  one  on  the  train  but  what  would  have  said, 
"It  is  water."  Mr.  Steere  says,  "No;  it  is  not  water; 


THE   CALIFORNIA    POPPY. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  69 

it  is  a  delusion,  a  mirage  caused  by  the  glare  of  the  sun 
on  the  shining  salt  crust  of  this  alkali  desert.  There 
is  not  much  doubt,"  continued  Mr.  Steere,  "but  what 
ages  upon  ages  ago  all  this  immense  basin  was  the  bot- 
tom of  a  great  sea.  You  can  see  upon  the  sides  of  these 
barren  bluffs  and  upon  those  walls  of  rock  the  mark  of 
the  water  line  that  for  thousands  of  years  perhaps  have 
withstood  the  ravages  and  test  of  time.  This  little  sta- 
tion is  called  Volcano  Springs  because  of  the  number 
of  springs  in  this  locality  that  are  apparently  of  volcanic 
origin.  They  are  not  in  operation  at  the  present  time, 
but  certain  seasons  of  the  year  they  are  very  active  and 
spout  up  mud  and  water  to  a  height  of  from  10  to  25 
feet." 

A  thermometer  hanging  in  the  doorway  of  the  station, 
in  the  shade,  registers  101  degrees,  and  it  is  not  unusual, 
we  are  told,  for  it  to  reach  125.  It  is  actually  too  hot  in 
the  sun  to  stand  still;  it  almost  takes  one's  breath  away. 
We  feel  relieved  when  our  train  starts  and  we  are  in 
motion  once  more.  We  create  a  breeze,  a  sea  breeze,  as 
it  were,  wafted  to  us  o'er  the  mummified  saliniferous 
remains  of  an  ancient  sea  3000  years  a  corpse.  But  the 
"mirage"  still  is  there,  a  wonderful  delusion,  a  monstrous 
deception,  a  gigantic  "Will  o'  the  wisp,"  whose  alluring 
promises  have  led  hundreds  of  men  and  animals  a  fruit- 
less chase  that  ended  in  horrid  death. 

Sixty-five  miles  ahead  of  us  we  can  plainly  see  San 
Jacinto  Mountain,  towering  11,500  feet  in  the  air,  with 
its  summit  covered  with  ice  and  snow  that  glistens  in  the 
noonday  sun.  Twenty-four  miles  from  Volcano  Springs 
we  pass  Salton,  noted  for  its  great  salt  industry.  This 
is  the  lowest  point  on  the  line  of  the  Southern  Pacific 


7O  NINE    THOUSAND    MILES 

Railroad,  being  263  feet  below  sea  level.  About  three 
miles  to  the  left  of  the  railroad  we  see  the  great  white 
salt  marsh  or  lake,  containing  such  a  vast  deposit  of  this 
useful  substance  that  the  supply  is  thought  to  be  inex- 
haustible. Steam  plows  are  used  for  gathering  the  salt, 
and  the  works  erected  here  have  a  capacity  of  nearly 
1000  tons  per  day. 

Twenty-five  miles  from  Salton  we  reach  Indio,  where 
a  short  stop  is  made  to  change  engines.  Indio  is  a 
veritable  oasis  in  the  desert.  After  miles  and  miles  of 
desert  dust  and  glaring  sand,  it  is  very  refreshing  to  see 
again  trees  and  grass  and  flowers.  We  are  still  20  feet 
below  the  level  of  the  sea,  but  good  water  has  been 
found  here,  and  plenty  of  it  applied  to  the  soil  has  worked 
wonders.  Whatever  is  planted  grows  with  rapidity  and 
in  profusion,  and  with  an  abundance  of  water  Indio  can 
look  forward  to  fast  increasing  beauty  and  prosperity. 
It  has  been  discovered  that  the  climate  here  is  very  bene- 
ficial to  consumptives,  and  Indio  has  already  become 
noted  as  a  resort  for  those  afflicted  with  pulmonary 
trouble,  and  it  is  claimed  some  very  remarkable  cures 
have  been  effected. 

We  leave  Indio  at  4.15  P.  M.  Eastern  (1.15  P.  M. 
Pacific),  with  S.  P.  engine  No.  1397.  Engineer  Ward 
Heins,  Fireman  J.  A.  Shanehan;  Conductor  Williams 
and  his  brakemen  will  continue  on  to  Los  Angeles  with 
us,  130  miles  further. 

Soon  after  leaving  Indio  we  ascend  a  grade  of  120 
feet  to  the  mile  and  pass  along  the  base  of  San  Jacinto 
Mountain,  with  its  summit  frowning  down  upon  us  from 
a  height  of  11,500  feet.  The  snow  can  now  be  plainly 
seen  upon  its  highest  peaks,  and  rivulets  and  cataracts 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  71 

can  be  seen  in  places  dashing  and  leaping  down  its 
seamed  and  rugged  sides. 

At  Rimlon  we  get  Engineer  Eli  Steavens  and  Fire- 
man M.  Anderson  with  engine  No.  1963  to  assist  us  up 
a  steep  grade  to  Beaumont,  a  distance  of  35  miles. 

At  Palm  Springs  a  short  stop  was  made  to  take  aboard 
some  guests  who  came  to  meet  us  from  Los  Angeles. 
They  were  Mr.  G.  L.  Mead,  Mr.  H.  Kearney,  and  Mr. 
J.  E.  White.  Mr.  Mead  is  a  merchant  of  Los  Angeles 
who  heard  of  our  coming  and  came  to  meet  us  to  bid  us 
welcome  to  the  "Paradise  of  America,"  and  to  emphasize 
his  expressions  of  good  feelings,  presented  the  tourists 
with  a  case  of  very  fine  California  wine.  Mr.  Mead 
could  have  done  nothing  more  in  accord  with  the  feel- 
ings of  the  party.  No  wine  ever  tasted  better,  no  wine 
ever  did  more  good;  it  is  a  medicine  our  systems  crave 
after  150  miles  of  the  scorching,  glaring,  waterless  Colo- 
rado Desert ;  a  right  thing  in  the  right  place ;  it  is  appre- 
ciated far  more  than  Mr.  Mead  will  ever  know.  Mr. 
Kearney  is  a  promoter  of  stage  lines  and  is  about  to 
establish  a  route  between  Palm  Springs  and  Virginia 
Dale,  a  distance  of  71  miles.  He  is  an  interesting  gen- 
tleman to  converse  with,  being  perfectly  familiar  with 
all  the  surrounding  country.  Mr.  White  is  a  transfer 
agent  doing  business  in  Los  Angeles,  and  is  on  hand 
to  render  aid  to  any  of  the  party  who  may  need  his 
services. 

We  arrive  at  Beaumont  and  have  reached  the  summit 
of  the  grade.  In  the  50  miles  we  have  come  since  leav- 
ing Indio,  we  have  made  an  ascent  of  5280  feet.  Our 
helper  engine  No.  1397  has  left  us;  and  we  commence 
our  descent  of  the  western  slope  of  the  San  Bernardino 


72  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Range.  Mr.  J.  Jacobs,  a  civil  engineer  in  the  employ  of 
the  SoutrTern  Pacific  Railroad  Company,  was  invited  to 
get  aboard  at  Beaumont  and  accompany  us  to  Los 
Angeles.  We  find  him  a  very  agreeable  guest,  giving  us 
a  great  deal  of  entertaining  information. 

We  have  passed  from  desert  wastes  into  a  rich  agricul- 
tural district;  farmers  are  engaged  in  harvesting  hun- 
dreds of  acres  of  barley,  which  in  this  region  is  cut  while 
in  a  green  state  and  cured  for  hay.  We  pass  many  large 
fruit  orchards  of  different  varieties,  while  away  in  the 
distance  on  every  hand  the  mountains  rear  their  snow- 
clad  peaks  to  the  clouds.  It  is  a  grand  and  wonderful 
transformation  from  the  scenes  through  which  we  have 
lately  passed,  and  needs  to  be  seen  to  be  appreciated. 

"This  section  of  country  through  which  we  are  now 
passing,"  observed  Mr.  Jacobs,  "is  the  famous  Redlands 
district,  a  country  that  has  shown  far  greater  develop- 
ment and  been  subject  to  more  rapid  improvements  in 
the  same  number  of  years  than  any  other  known  section 
of  its  size  in  the  world.  Ten  years  ago  it  was  almost 
barren,  and  known  only  as  a  vast  sheep  range;  to-day, 
owing  to  a  thorough  system  of  irrigation,  there  are 
nearly  30,000  acres  of  reclaimed  land  that  bloom  and 
blossom  and  bear  fruit  with  all  the  fertility,  the  beauty, 
and  abundance  of  a  tropical  garden." 

We  have  now  entered  the  orange  district,  and  large 
groves  are  seen  on  every  hand,  golden  with  the  luscious 
fruit.  At  Pomona  a  halt  of  sufficient  length  is  made 
to  allow  several  baskets  of  oranges  to  be  put  on  the 
train,  which  are  distributed  amongst  the  party  and 
found  to  be  delicious  and  refreshing.  We  are  unable 
to  ascertain  who  are  the  thoughtful  donors,  but  all  the 


A   CLUSTER    OF   NAVEL   ORANGES,    CALIFORNIA. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  73 

same  they  have  the  most  sincere  thanks  of  the  entire 
party  for  their  kindness  and  generosity. 

For  25  miles  we  pass  through  a  fairyland  of  bloom- 
ing loveliness,  and  at  8.45  P.  M.  Eastern  (5.45  Pacific) 
our  train  rolls  into  the  station  in  Los  Angeles,  five  days, 
five  hours,  and  forty-five  minutes  late.  On  an  adjacent 
track  a  train  is  loading,  and  we  learn  it  is  the  New 
York  Central  excursion  about  ready  to  start  for  home. 
We  exchange  greetings  and  cards  with  many  of  them 
before  their  train  pulls  out,  bound  for  its  journey 
through  the  heat  and  dust  of  desert  and  plain,  for  they 
return  by  the  route  we  came,  and  we  know  what  is  in 
store  for  them. 

We  begin  to  realize  what  we  have  missed  by  thus 
coming  in  at  the  eleventh  hour.  We  find  we  were  saved 
from  a  watery  grave  in  the  raging  Rio  Grande  only  to 
discover  that  we  are  here  just  in  time  to  be  too  late 
to  participate  in  the  "good  times"  all  the  other  visitors 
have  had.  The  twenty-sixth  session  of  the  Grand  Di- 
vision of  the  "Order  of  Railway  Conductors"  that  we 
had  expected  to  attend  is  about  ready  to  adjourn;  the 
pleasure  trips  planned  for  the  entertainment  of  mem- 
bers of  the  order  to  all  the  surrounding  points  of  in- 
terest have  been  taken,  and  we  weren't  "in  it."  'Tis 
rather  a  discouraging  outlook,  but  with  the  true  Yankee 
spirit  of  self-reliance  we  quickly  determine  to  make  the 
best  of  it,  trusting  our  future  to  luck  and  Providence. 

Brothers  Houston,  Haefner,  and  myself  start  for 
Music  Hall,  No.  234  South  Spring  Street,  where  the 
Convention  is  in  session,  and  arrive  five  minutes  be- 
fore its  adjournment.  We  hear  Brother  Grand  Chief 
Conductor  E.  E.  Clark  make  his  closing  speech.  As 


74  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

the  members  of  the  Convention  commence  to  pour  out 
of  the  hall  into  the  street  the  greater  part  of  our  folks 
arrive  on  the  scene,  and  for  more  than  an  hour  an 
impromptu  meeting  is  held  on  the  sidewalk  and  on  the 
street  in  front  of  the  building,  where  old  friends  are 
greeted  and  new  friends  are  made;  everybody  wants 
to  exchange  cards  with  everybody  else;  all  are  good- 
natured,  good-humored,  and  happy,  and  "perpetual 
friendship"  seems  to  be  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  hour. 
The  crowd  gradually  disperses  and  becomes  scattered 
over  the  city,  members  of  our  party  mingling  with  the 
rest,  seeing  the  sights  and  looking  for  souvenirs. 

Brother  Ristein  received  a  telegram  that  had  been 
lying  in  the  Los  Angeles  office  four  days  awaiting  his 
arrival,  telling  him  of  the  serious  illness  of  one  of  his 
children  far  away  in  his  Delmar  home,  and  he  is  at 
the  office  now,  anxiously  awaiting  a  reply  to  a  message 
of  inquiry  sent  as  to  the  present  condition  of  the  child. 
Brother  Ristein  fears  the  worst,  and  we  all  share  his 
anxiety.  Promptly  the  answer  flashes  back,  "The  child 
is  better  and  thought  to  be  out  of  danger."  The  words 
make  light  a  heavy  heart,  and  we  are  all  glad  for 
Brother  Ristein's  sake. 

Our  train  occupies  a  track  in  the  Arcade  Station 
train  shed  for  our  convenience,  and  by  ten  o'clock  there 
are  very  few  but  what  have  turned  in.  A  few  of  the 
"boys"  are  still  out,  of  course,  but  it  is  a  hopeless  task 
to  try  and  "keep  tab"  on  them.  We  cannot  do  it. 
These  nocturnal  outings  of  theirs  will  have  to  be  noted 
down  as  "unwritten  history."  How  much  of  it  there 
will  be  we  cannot  tell.  There  has  been  considerable 
already,  of  which  we  might  mention  one  night  at  Fort 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  75 

Worth,  testing  the  efficacy  of  police  protection  while 
attempting  to  follow  a  "blind  trail";  four  or  five  nights 
in  El  Paso  chasing  the  fleeting  phantom  of  merry  luck 
to  the  musical  whirl  of  the  wheel  of  fortune.  They  are 
all  right,  these  "boys"  of  ours,  and  they  know  a  good 
thing  when  they  see  it. 

WEDNESDAY,   MAY   19th. 

We  are  all  up  bright  and  early  this  morning,  and 
after  breakfast  parties  are  formed  to  take  in  the  sights. 
A  number  of  us  have  decided  to  take  a  tally-ho  ride, 
and  Brother  Wyman  has  gone  to  procure  the  outfit. 
In  a  short  time  he  returns  with  the  information  that 
"the  wagon  will  soon  be  here."  It  is  not  long  until  a 
fine  roomy  coach,  drawn  by  six  white  horses,  reins  up 
in  front  of  the  group,  and  we  clamber  in.  There  is 
just  room  enough.  We  count  the  party  and  find  there 
are  fourteen,  including  the  driver.  The  team  is  from 
the  Panorama  Stables  and  driven  by  "Mac,"  the  vet- 
eran stager  and  coachman,  who  knows  every  crook 
and  turn  in  all  the  highways  and  byways  and  drives 
and  trails  throughout  Southern  California.  "Mac"  is  a 
character;  we  try  to  draw  him  out,  but  he  won't  talk 
about  himself,  won't  even  tell  you  his  name,  only  that 
it  is  "Mac."  He  will  tell  you  about  everything  else, 
and  he  is  thoroughly  posted.  He  takes  us  through  the 
principal  streets  of  this  most  wonderful  city,  rightly 
named  "The  town  of  the  Queen  of  Angels." 

Los  Angeles  lies  amongst  the  foothills  of  the  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains,  with  an  average  elevation  of  300 
feet  above  sea  level,  only  15  miles  from  the  coast,  with 
an  active,  bustling  business  population  of  a*bout  75,000 


76  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

inhabitants.  The  beauty  and  magnificence  of  this  trop- 
ical profusion  through  which  we  are  passing  is  some- 
thing we  have  heard  of,  but  never  saw  before,  and  we 
find  we  are  helpless  when  we  attempt  to  describe  it. 
In  fancy  and  in  dreams  we  have  pictured  "The  Land 
of  Sunshine  and  Flowers,"  but  now,  brought  face  to 
face  with  this  marvelous  reality,  the  beautiful  pictures 
of  dreams  and  fancy  pale  into  crudeness  and  insignifi- 
cance. Through  avenues  shaded  on  either  side  by 
rows  of  palms,  eucalyptus,  and  pepper  trees,  past  rose- 
embowered  cottages  and  lawns  filled  with  tropical  plants, 
surrounded  by  hedges  of  roses  and  calla  lilies,  we  con- 
tinue on  our  way  out  through  the  suburbs  into  the 
rural  districts,  through  the  avenues  of  vast  orange 
groves,  the  trees  loaded  with  luscious  golden  fruit, 
through  beautiful  Pasadena,  and  on  until  "Mac"  draws 
up  at  the  famous  ostrich  farm,  where  we  alight  and 
go  in  to  look  around. 

We  spend  about  half  an  hour  looking  at  the  birds  and 
two  and  a  half  dollars  in  the  purchase  of  feathers.  Load- 
ing up,  we  start  on  our  way  again,  bound  for  "Lucky 
Baldwin's"  ranch,  "the  largest  individual  tract  of  land," 
says  "Mac,"  "in  Southern  California.  It  comprises  50,- 
ooo  acres,  nearly  all  under  a  condition  of  cultivation  and 
improvement."  Here  it  is  our  pleasure  to  behold  the 
largest  and  most  wonderful  orange  grove  in  the  world. 
For  miles  we  see  nothing  but  orange  trees  and  oranges ; 
the  trees  are  loaded  and  the  ground  is  covered  with  the 
yellow  fruit.  We  feast  upon  the  beauty  and  grandeur 
of  this  unusual  sight,  with  lots  of  oranges  thrown  in.  It 
is  needless  to  state  that  we  ate  all  we  could  and  loaded 
up  the  hack. 


ON   A   PULLMAN    TRAIN.  77 

A  few  miles  further  on  we  arrive  at  the  Bonita  Hotel, 
belonging  to  the  ranch  kept  by  Mrs.  Warner,  where  the 
horses  are  taken  from  the  coach  and  fed  and  the  party 
takes  lunch.  Large  lawns  surround  the  buildings  filled 
with  many  varieties  of  flowers,  and  we  are  given  the 
privilege  of  plucking  all  we  want,  and  when  we  leave 
each  lady  carries  a  large  bouquet  in  her  hand  and  each 
gentleman  a  smaller  one  in  his  buttonhole. 

Starting  on  our  way  again,  the  horses  refreshed  with 
rest  and  food,  we  speed  along  lengthy  drives  and 
avenues,  shaded  by  large  Lombardy  poplar  and  euca- 
lyptus trees,  for  about  two  miles,  when  we  pass  through 
a  large  gateway  over  which  is  an  arch  in  the  form  of  an 
immense  horse  shoe,  and  enter  the  stable  grounds  where 
Baldwin's  famous  blooded  horses  are  kept.  We  are 
kindly  received  by  the  stableman,  shown  through  the 
stalls,  where  a  number  of  the  celebrated*  equines  are  seen. 
Brother  Layfield  evinces  such  a  surprising  knowledge 
of  horseflesh  and  shows  so  much  interest  in  the  history 
of  the  different  animals  as  related  by  the  stableman  that 
he  is  presented  by  that  courteous  gentleman  with  a 
mule's  shoe  as  a  souvenir  of  the  visit.  Brother  Kilgore 
is  also  interested  in  the  horses  and  would  like  to  have  a 
shoe;  a  search  for  one  is  unsuccessful,  and  so  long  did 
Brother  Kilgore  remain  in  the  stable  looking  for  the 
much-desired  relic  that  he  came  near  being  left. 

Leaving  the  stable  grounds,  we  drive  a  mile  further  to 
the  palatial  residence  and  magnificent  grounds  of  the 
renowned  ruler  of  these  domains.  Mr.  Baldwin  is  not 
at  home  at  the  present  time,  but  the  place  is  in  charge  of 
trusted  employes.  Leaving  the  coach,  we  walk  through 
the  spacious  grounds  surrounding  the  princely  mansion. 


78  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

Paradise  can  hardly  be  more  beautiful  and  grand — the 
largest,  the  sweetest,  the  reddest  roses  that  ever  de- 
lighted the  sense  of  sight  or  smell,  the  grandest  trees, 
the  most  beautiful  shrubbery  bearing  flowers  of  every 
kind  and  color.  Bordered  with  blooming  lilies  are  lakes 
of  water,  clear  as  crystal,  on  the  surface  of  which  grace- 
ful swans  are  swimming  and  in  whose  depth  gold  and 
silver  fish  dart  and  dive.  Fine  fountains  and  statuary 
intersperse  the  lawn,  adding  to  its  richness  and  beauty. 
Mounted  above  a  pedestal  in  a  conspicuous  spot  we 
notice  an  old  bell.  It  is  possessed  of  no  beauty,  and  we 
wonder  what  it  is  for.  We  inquire  of  an  old  man  work- 
ing near  by,  "Uncle,  what  is  the  old  rusty  bell  for?" 
"That  old  bell,"  answered  the  old  gentleman,  removing 
his  hat  with  a  low  bow  as  he  turns  toward  the  object  in 
question,  "is  the  most  valued  thing  you  see.  It  is  a  relic 
that  money  cannot  buy.  Mr.  Baldwin  prizes  it  very 
highly,  and  we  people  all  adore  it."  As  the  old  servant 
utters  the  last  words  he  makes  another  low  courtesy.  We 
begin  to  think  he  is  a  little  daft  and  are  about  to  move 
on,  when,  straightening  up  and  with  outstretched  arm 
he  points  toward  the  old  bell  a  bony,  trembling  finger, 
and  continues  slowly  and  with  emphasis,  "That  old  bell 
came  from  the  chimes  tower  of  the  San  Gabriel  Mis- 
sion. That  is  why  we  prize  it;  that  is  why  we  love  it." 
We  thought  at  first  the  old  fellow  bowed  to  us ;  we  know 
now  that  he  bowed  to  the  old  bell  out  of  respect  and 
reverence,  for  whatever  is  connected  or  associated  with 
those  old  missions  is  looked  upon  as  something  almost 
sacred  by  many  of  the  people  here,  especially  those  of 
the  Roman  faith. 

A  whistle  from  "Mac"  informs  us  we  must  be  going, 


SAN   GABRIEL   MISSION,    CALIFORNIA. 


;iANT   PALMS   ON   THE   ROAD   TO   SAN   GABRIEL. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  79 

and  climbing  into  the  'bus  the  horses  start  off  on  a 
brisk  trot  and  we  soon  leave  "Lucky  Baldwin's"  ranch 
behind  and  enter  ''Sunny  Slope"  vineyard,  owned  by 
L.  J.  Rose.  This  immense  vineyard  contains  1500  acres 
and  is  traversed  by  beautiful  avenues  which  divide  this 
vast  acreage  of  grapevines  into  great  squares. 

We  are  soon  across  this  interesting  tract  and  enter 
the  grounds  of  the  vintage  plant  of  the  San  Gabriel  Wine 
Company.  We  were  very  courteously  treated  and  shown 
through  the  large  establishment,  the  capacity  of  which 
is  1,500,000  gallons  of  wine  per  year.  Upon  leaving  we 
pass  through  their  vineyard,  containing  1000  acres, 
which  is  near  the  vintage  plant. 

As  we  approach  the  old  San  Gabriel  Mission  and 
"Mac"  reins  up  his  steeds  in  front  of  the  low,  quaint 
building,  I  instinctively  glance  up  at  the  ancient  belfry 
and  find  that  two  of  the  niches  or  arches  where  bells 
once  had  swung  are  vacant.  "Lucky  Baldwin"  has  one 
of  the  bells;  I  wonder  who  has  the  other.  At  this  mo- 
ment another  tally-ho  drives  up  and  stops,  and  we  find 
it  is  a  coaching  party  of  our  own  people.  We  all  alight 
and  enter  the  historic  and  sacred  edifice.  Those  who  are 
of  the  faith  render  their  acknowledgment  with  quiet, 
humble  reverence;  we  who  are  not  stand  silently  by  in 
an  attitude  of  mute  veneration.  San  Gabriel  stands 
fourth  in  the  line  of  the  twenty-one  missions  established 
in  California  from  July  i6th,  1769,  to  April  25th,  1820, 
the  date  of  its  establishment  being  September  8th,  1771. 

The  party  we  encountered  consists  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Mitchell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maxwell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Reilly, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Matthews,  Mr.  Reagan,  Mr.  McCarty, 
Mr.  Waddington,  Mr.  Taylor,  Mr.  Williams,  and  Mr. 


8O  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

Suter.  They  occupy  one  of  Hoag's  White  Livery 
tally-ho  coaches,  followed  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horner  in  a 
buggy.  Our  party  consists  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyman, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kilgcre,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Layfield,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  McKernan,  Mr.  and  Miss  Barrett,  Mr.  Crispen, 
Mrs.  Shaw  and  myself. 

As  we  bowl  along  the  level  drive  toward  the  city, 
after  leaving  the  old  Mission,  our  conversation  turns 
upon  the  pleasures  of  the  day  and  of  the  interesting 
and  beautiful  things  we  have  seen.  We  are  all  well 
pleased  with  our  day's  outing,  especially  the  Colonel, 
who  is  in  a  high  good  humor,  for  had  he  not  obtained 
what  no  one  else  could  get,  a  substantial  memento  of  his 
visit  to  the  famous  Baldwin  ranch?  "I  am  going  to 
have  this  shoe  decorated  with  ribbon  and  hung  up  in 
my  parlor,"  asserts  the  Colonel,  as  he  searches  in  the 
bottom  of  the  coach  for  his  prize.  "I  guess  not,"  ex- 
claims Mrs.  Shaw,  as  she  gives  him  a  dig  in  the  ribs 
with  her  elbow,  "that's  my  shoe  you've  got  hold  of." 
"But  where's  my  horse  shoe?  Has  any  one  got  it? 
Has  any  one  seen  my  horse  shoe?"  excitedly  inquires 
the  Colonel,  as  he  makes  another  dive  into  the  bottom 
of  the  coach.  "I  think  it  flew  away,"  quietly  remarks 
Mrs.  Wyman,  as  she  draws  her  feet  up  and  out  of  the 
way.  "Who  ever  saw  a  shoe  fly,"  snaps  the  Colonel, 
as  he  continues  rummaging  in  the  bottom  of  the  vehi- 
cle. "I  have,"  answers  Manager  Wyman,  removing  his 
hat,  exposing  a  pate  as  devoid  of  hair  and  as  bald  as 
a  door  knob,  from  which  he  brushes  an  imaginary  fly. 
"I  saw  a  horse  fly,  but  didn't  notice  if  he  had  shoes  on," 
observes  Mrs.  McKernan,  keeping  her  eye  on  the  Col- 
onel, who  is  growing  desperate  in  his  failure  to  find 


ON  A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  8l 

his  treasure.  But  it  was  gone;  it  had  escaped  from  the 
bottom  of  the  coach  in  some  way,  and  we  all  sympa- 
thize with  Brother  Layfield  in  his  bereavement,  now 
that  we  find  he  has  actually  lost  his  valued  souvenir. 

We  enter  the  city  through  East  Side  Park,  which  is 
a  most  beautiful  and  delightful  drive.  We  bid  goodbye 
to  "Mac"  and  his  spanking  team  and  hurry  to  our 
dining  car,  where  we  arrive  just  in  time  for  one  of 
McDonald's  dandy  dinners,  which  we  heartily  enjoy 
after  such  a  busy  day.  We  find  a  number  of  our  party 
had  taken  trips  similar  to  our  own,  and  over  nearly 
the  same  route;  others  had  ascended  Mt.  Lowe,  been 
away  above  the  clouds;  some  had  taken  a  run  down 
to  Santa  Monica  and  sported  in  the  surf  of  the  Pacific; 
some  to  Santa  Catalina  Island,  the  alleged  "Garden  of 
Eden"  of  the  Pacific  coast.  All  express  themselves  as 
having  had  an  exceedingly  good  time  and  are  laying 
plans  for  the  morrow.  There  are  many  places  we  would 
like  to  visit  and  many  things  we  would  like  to  see,  but 
our  time  is  too  limited  "to  take  it  all  in,"  for  we  are 
to  leave  here  to-morrow  at  2.00  P.  M.  We  have  friends 
in  San  Diego  we  had  intended  to  visit  and  there  are 
fish  at  Catalina  Island  we  had  expected  to  catch;  both 
friends  and  fish  will  have  to  charge  their  disappoint- 
ment or  pleasure,  as  the  case  may  be,  to  the  turbid 
waters  of  the  Rio  Grande. 

Dinner  being  over,  the  most  of  our  people  take  a 
walk  up  town  and  enjoy  a  promenade  through  the 
brilliantly-lighted  streets,  admiring  the  handsomely-fur- 
nished stores,  with  goods  and  wares  arranged  and  ex- 
posed in  so  tempting  a  manner  that  many  trinkets  and 
knicknacks  are  purchased  for  souvenirs.  Returning  to 


82  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

the  train  at  an  early  hour  and  hearing  such  a  favorable 
account  of  the  trip  to  Mt.  Lowe  from  some  who  were 
there  to-day,  we  conclude  to  join  a  party  that  is  going 
in  the  morning  and  "take  it  in."  One  by  one  and  two 
by  two  our  people  keep  dropping  in  like  unto  the  oft- 
mentioned  fowls  that  "come  home  to  roost,"  until  only 
a  few  of  the -"boys,"  as  usual,  are  left  outside  the  fold, 
and  to  them  I  need  again  ascribe  "unwritten  history.'' 
As  I  leave  the  smoker  to  retire  to  my  berth  in  the 
"Marco"  I  see  our  faithful  George  H.  (Alfalfa)  Anderson 
making  up  his  bed,  under  the  pillow  of  which  he  care- 
fully places  our  "artillery,"  and  I  feel  we  are  as  safe 
as  though  surrounded  by  a  cordon  of  Catling  guns. 

THURSDAY,   MAY   2Oth. 

Arose  early  this  morning  and  found  the  weather  not 
very  favorable  for  our  contemplated  trip  to  Mt.  Lowe, 
being  cloudy  and  somewhat  foggy,  but  we  concluded 
to  go,  so  after  breakfast  the  party,  consisting  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wyman,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Layfield,  Mr.  and 
Miss  Barrett,  Mr.  Kilgore,  Mr.  Sloane,  Mr.  Haas,  Mr. 
Crispen,  Mr.  Denniston,  two  guests — Miss  R.  Stradling 
and  Mr.  A.  L.  Bailey — George  H.  Alfalfa  Anderson, 
and  myself,  under  the  escort  of  Brother  Ed.  Butcher, 
of  Los  Angeles  Division  No.  in,  who  is  a  passenger 
conductor  on  the  Los  Angeles  Terminal  Road,  boarded 
a  car  at  10.00  A.  M.  Eastern  (7.00  A.  M.  Pacific)  on 
the  Pasadena  and  Los  Angeles  Electric  Railway,  con- 
ducted by  W.  A.  Brown,  and  started  on  a  never-to- 
be-forgotten  trip  to  Mt.  Lowe. 

Out  through  the  suburbs  of  Los  Angeles,  with  its 


GREAT   CABLE   INCLINE,    MT.    LOWE    RAILWAY. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  83 

beautiful  rose-embowered  cottages  and  palatial  resi- 
dences and  lawns  of  palms  and  tropical  shrubbery,  on 
through  miles  of  country  districts,  rich  with  groves  of 
golden  fruit,  through  eden — Pasadena  to  Altadena, 
where  we  change  cars  for  another  electric  road  that 
carries  us  for  about  three  miles  over  hill  and  dale, 
through  ravines  and  across  frightful-looking  chasms, 
but  always  tending  upward,  until  at  an  elevation  of 
2200  feet  Rubio  Canon  is  reached  and  we  are  at  the 
foot  of  the  great  cable  incline,  claimed  to  be  the  most 
wonderful  cable  road  in  the  world,  extending  from 
Rubio  Pavilion  to  Echo  Mountain,  a  distance  of  3000 
feet.  It  makes  a  direct  ascent  of  1350  feet.  Looking 
up  at  the  wonderful  construction  it  seems  to  almost 
pierce  the  sky;  its  summit  is  enshrouded  in  a  veil  of 
fog  that  hides  it  from  our  view. 

"I  don't  quite  like  the  looks  of  that,"  ventures  Brother 
Kilgore,  looking  over  his  glasses  with  a  scrutinizing 
glance,  as  his  eyes  follow  the  great  incline  up  to  where 
it  is  lost  in  the  fog.  "I  guess  it's  all  right;  I  don't 
think  we'll  find  it  as  terrifying  as  it  looks  to  be;  any- 
how, the  proof  of  the  pudding  is  in  eating  it,  and  I  for 
one  am  going  up,"  answers  Brother  Sloane.  "Charlie, 
if  you  go  I  will  go,"  responds  his  bosom  friend  and 
chum,  Brother  Haas.  "There  is  no  danger  I  will  not 
share  with  you,  and  perhaps  we  can  see  some  mount- 
ain goats." 

"Or  capture  a  deer,"  adds  Brother  Denniston,  who  is 
keeping  pretty  close  to  Miss  Stradling,  for  that  young 
lady  looks  as  though  she  needs  sympathy  and  com- 
panionship in  this  trying  ordeal. 

"Do  you  think  it's  safe,   Charlie?"   quietly  inquires 


84  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Mrs.  Wyman  of  her  husband  as  we  start  to  ascend  to 
the  landing  where  we  board  the  car.  "Yes,  perfectly 
safe,"  replies  Manager  Wyman.  "Human  skill  and  in- 
genuity can  make  it  no  safer.  They  claim  they  never 
had  an  accident  since  the  road  has  been  in  operation. 
The  cable  by  which  these  cars  are  drawn  has  been 
tested  to  stand  a  strain  of  100  tons,  and  the  cars  when 
loaded  do  not  weigh  five  tons,  so  there  is  no  danger 
at  all."  "If  I  thought  there  was  the  least  danger  I 
wouldn't  go  up,"  utters  Brother  Layfield,  "but  I  know 
there  isn't  a  bit."  Mrs.  Layfield  makes  no  comment, 
but  clings  nervously  to  the  Colonel's  arm.  The  rest 
of  the  party  follow  without  any  apparent  trepidation 
with  the  exception  of  "Alfalfa,"  who  looks  a  trifle  pale. 

We  are  all  comfortably  seated  in  the  "White  Chariot" 
car,  which  is  constructed  without  canopy  or  covering, 
with  seats  arranged  in  amphitheatre  style,  one  above 
the  other,  facing  the  foot  of  the  incline,  an  excellent 
arrangement  for  affording  an  unobstructed  view. 

The  signal  is  given,  the  machinery  is  set  in  motion, 
and  quietly  and  smoothly  we  start  on  our  trip  toward 
the  sky. 

"Those  mountain  peaks  you  see  just  beyond  Rubio 
Canon  are  called  the  'Rubio  Amphitheatre/  "  explains 
the  guide  who  accompanied  the  car.  "You  will  notice 
that  as  we  ascend  those  mountains  seem  to  rise  one  after 
another  and  follow  us."  We  did  notice  them;  we  were 
looking  right  at  them  and  couldn't  help  it.  It  was  an 
optical  illusion  that  was  rather  startling.  We  thought 
at  first  that  the  mountains  would  overtake  us,  but  they 
didn't.  "This  is  'Granite  Gorge,'  "  continues  the  guide, 
as  we  enter  a  great  cut  that  rears  its  granite  walls  on 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  85 

either  side  of  us  and  lose  sight  of  the  mountains  that  are 
chasing  us.  "The  workmen  on  this  road  were  eight 
months  in  hewing  this  passage  through  these  rocks, 
and  before  a  tie  or  rail  was  laid  they  had  to  clamber  to 
these  rugged  heights  and  carry  their  implements  with 
them,  and  much  of  the  material  used  in  the  construction 
of  the  road,  such  as  water,  cement,  and  lumber,  had  to  be 
carried  on  the  backs  of  burros  and  on  the  shoulders  of 
men.  This  bridge  that  we  are  now  crossing  is  called  the 
MacPherson  Trestle,  and  there  is  no  other  bridge  like  it 
in  the  world.  It  is  200  feet  long  and  100  feet  higher  at 
one  end  than  the  other.  If  it  were  not  for  the  clouds 
you  could  obtain  a  good  scenic  view  from  here." 
Clouds !  We  had  not  thought  of  it  before,  so  interested 
were  we  in  the  talk  of  our  guide,  but  we  notice  now  that 
the  sun  is  shining,  and  looking  up  we  see  no  vestige  of  a 
cloud  in  the  bright,  blue  sky  above. 

Looking  again,  beneath  and  beyond  us,  such  a  sight 
meets  our  gaze  as  our  eyes  had  never  rested  on  before. 
A  vast  white  sea  of  billowy  vapor  overhangs  the  great 
San  Gabriel  Valley  and  hides  it  from  our  view.  This 
alone  is  worth  the  trip  to  see — an  immense  heaving  sea 
of  clouds,  an  ocean  of  fleecy  vapor  billows  that  surge 
and  roll  and  toss  as  though  seeking  for  a  shore  of  sand 
and  rock  upon  which  to  spend  their  restless  force.  Halt- 
ing at  the  summit  of  the  great  cable  incline,  we  find  we 
have  arrived  at  the  Echo  Mountain  House,  where  we 
change  cars,  taking  an  electric  road  called  the  Alpine 
Division  of  the  Mt.  Lowe  Railway,  which  extends  from 
Echo  Mountain  to  Mt.  Lowe  Springs,  where  "Ye  Alpine 
Tavern"  is  located. 

As  we  board  the  Alpine  Division  observation  car  I 


86  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

again  cast  my  eyes  over  toward  the  San  Gabriel  Valley, 
where  a  few  minutes  before  we  had  beheld  the  battle  of 
the  clouds.  What  a  grand  transformation !  The  clouds 
have  been  dispersed  as  though  by  magic,  and  lying 
spread  out  in  the  valley  3500  feet  beneath  us  is  a  pano- 
rama of  such  incomparable  and  inconceivable  beauty 
and  loveliness  that  we  gaze  for  a  moment  enraptured, 
speechless,  spellbound,  dazed.  They  must  be  all  look- 
ing, for  there  hasn't  been  a  word  uttered  for  a  minute. 
I  am  feasting  my  eyes  on  the  supreme  beauty  of  the 
scenery  and  drinking  deeply  at  the  fountain  of  delight; 
at  the  same  time  I'm  trying  to  count  the  squares  in  the 
city  of  Pasadena  and  the  orange  groves  that  dot  the 
valley.  "It's  all  there,  but  it's  a  good  ways  off,"  re- 
marks Charlie  Sloane,  breaking  the  spell  of  silence.  "My 
gracious!  isn't  that  fine?  It  beats  looking  across  Jersey 
through  the  crown  of  Billy  Penn's  hat,"  exclaims  George 
Alfalfa  in  a  guarded  tone. 

The  electric  current  is  turned  on,  our  car  starts  quietly 
off,  and  for  four  miles  we  pass  over  the  most  wonderfully 
constructed  railway  in  the  world.  We  do  not  go  very 
fast — in  fact,  we  would  rather  not,  for  taking  everything 
into  consideration  this  is  not  very  good  ground  for 
"scorching,"  and  going  at  a  gentle,  easy  pace  lessens 
our  chances  of  being  rolled  a  few  thousand  feet  down 
the  side  of  a  mountain.  Not  that  any  of  us  are  afraid 
of  being  "dumped" ;  we  didn't  come  up  here  to  be  scared, 
but  out  of  curiosity  to  see  what  it  is  like,  and  the  more 
slowly  the  car  moves  the  better  able  we  are  to  see  and 
the  longer  we  can  look  at  what  we  do  see. 

This  entire  roadbed,  hewn  out  of  the  sides  of  the 
mountain,  forms  a  solid  granite  ledge  upon  which  the 


MT.    LOWE   RAILWAY,    CALIFORNIA. 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  87 

road  is  built,  and  it  is  always  a  towering  wall  of  rock  on 
one  side  and  a  yawning  chasm  on  the  other.  To  this 
there  is  but  one  exception,  the  "Grand  Circular  Bridge." 
From  this  structure  you  can  look  from  both  sides  down 
into  the  depths.  If  you  don't  want  to  look  you  can  shut 
your  eyes. 

Professor  Lowe  has  constructed  this  railway  at  a  cost 
of  many  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  enable  tourists  to 
penetrate  the  heart  of  the  Sierra  Madre  Mountain,  that 
they  may  form  some  conception  of  what  an  isolated 
mountain  wilderness  is  like.  It  is  all  here  and  ever- 
present,  in  boundless,  grand  profusion — mountains, 
wilderness,  isolation — an  awe-inspiring,  infinite  trinity 
of  grandeur,  that  almost  makes  your  head  swim  and 
your  heart  stand  still.  Our  tracks  shelve  the  very  sum- 
mit of  the  sloping  walls  of  mighty  canons,  and  you  can 
look  down  3000  feet  into  their  wooded  depths. 

We  arrive  in  due  time  at  Mt.  Lowe  Springs,  the  ter- 
minus of  the  road,  and  are  5000  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  From  here  we  can  see  the  summit  of  Mt.  Lowe, 
two  miles  away  and  1000  feet  above  us.  It  is  intended 
to  extend  the  tracks  to  this  point  in  the  near  future.  A 
bridle  path  leads  to  it,  and  you  can  make  the  trip  now  on 
the  back  of  a  burro.  A  pathway  leads  to  "Inspiration 
Point,"  half  a  mile  away,  from  which  it  is  said  magnifi- 
cent views  can  be  had.  Our  time  is  limited;  we  hasten 
to  the  famous  spring,  drink  of  its  ice-cold  water,  and 
then  visit  the  homelike,  cozy  club  house,  "Ye  Alpine 
Tavern,"  and  give  it  a  hurried  inspection. 

Nestling  among  giant  oaks  and  pines,  it  occupies  a 
romantic  and  picturesque  location;  in  style  of  architect- 
ure it  is  attractive  and  unique,  being  something  on  the 


88  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

order  of  a  Swiss  chalet.  It  is  two  and  a  half  stories  in 
height,  with  ground  dimensions  of  40  by  80  feet;  con- 
tains 20  bed  rooms,  a  large  dining  room,  billiard  hall, 
and  kitchen.  It  is  built  of  granite  and  Oregon  pine, 
finished  in  the  natural  color  of  the  wood.  The  design 
of  the  main  hall  or  dining  room  is  the  most  striking 
feature  connected  with  the  construction  of  the  building. 
Artistically  located  around  the  room  in  uniform  order 
are  five  cheerful  open  fireplaces,  in  the  largest  of  which 
swings  a  mammoth  iron  pot  on  a  huge  crane.  It  is  7 
feet  high  and  12  feet  wide.  Blocks  of  granite  have  been 
placed  in  its  corners  for  seats,  and  over  the  mantel  above 
it  is  the  somewhat  flattering  but  old-time  hospitable  in- 
scription, "YE  ORNAMENT  OF  A  HOUSE  IS  YE  GUEST  WHO 

DOTH  FREQUENT  IT."  On  one  side  of  this  mantel  is  a 
brick  oven  of  ancient  design;  on  the  other  side  is  a 
receptacle  of  peculiar  and  unique  construction  and  sus- 
picious appearance,  which  no  doubt  contains  the  liquid 
nourishment  of  the  establishment. 

"I  wonder  what  they  keep  in  this  funny-looking  cup- 
board," whispers  Brother  Kilgore  in  my  ear,  as  we  were 
looking  around  in  the  dining  room. 

"Suppose  we  look  and  see,"  I  reply,  as  I  attempt  to 
open  the  door.  "No,  you  don't;  it's  fastened.  I'll  see 
who's  got  the  key,"  is  the  rejoinder  as  he  hurriedly  walks 
away.  Passing  outside,  I  notice  a  number  of  the  party 
are  getting  aboard  the  car,  and  as  I  join  them  the 
motorman  shouts  "All  aboard."  "Are  our  people  all 
here?"  asks  Manager  Wyman,  as  he  casts  his  eyes  over 
the  crowd.  "Brother  Denniston  isn't  here.  I  think  he 
went  to  Inspiration  Point,"  replies  Brother  Barrett. 
"Nor  Brother  Kilgore,"  I  add.  "He  went  to  look  for  a 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  89 

man  with  a  key."  "I'm  here,"  says  Brother  Kilgore,  as 
he  emerges  from  the  door  of  the  "Tavern,"  wiping  his 
mouth  in  a  suspicious  manner;  at  the  same  time  Brother 
Denniston  and  his  "company"  are  seen  coming  from 
toward  the  "spring"  and  soon  we  are  "all  aboard"  and 
"homeward  bound."  At  one  point  on  our  descent  three 
or  four  mountain  goats  are  seen  on  the  track  ahead  of 
us,  but  on  our  approach  they  quickly  disappear  from 
sight  in  the  thicket.  It  is  with  difficulty  that  Brothers 
Sloane  and  Haas  can  be  restrained  from  leaping  over- 
board and  giving  chase.  Thirty  minutes  stop  at  Echo 
Mountain  gives  us  an  opportunity  of  visiting  the  beauti- 
ful hotel  at  this  point,  the  "Echo  Mountain  House," 
which  is  located  on  the  summit  of  Echo  Mountain  and 
is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  equipped  mountain  hotels 
in  the  world.  From  its  veranda  and  balcony  hundreds 
of  visitors  daily  view  with  rapture  and  delight  the  won- 
derful scenery  of  the  San  Gabriel  Valley  and  its  sur- 
roundings. A  small  cannon  fired  off  on  the  lawn  has  a 
startling  effect,  and  proves  that  the  mountain  is  not  mis- 
named. The  report  echoes  from  peak  to  peak  and  then 
seems  to  go  bounding  and  tumbling  down  the  canons 
and  ravines,  growing  fainter  and  fainter  until  it  gradu- 
ally dies  away  in  the  distance. 

The  great  "World's  Fair  search  light,"  purchased  by 
Professor  Lowe  and  established  on  Echo  Mountain,  is 
operated  nightly  for  the  pleasure  and  entertainment  of 
visitors.  The  power  of  its  light  is  that  of  3,000,000 
candles  and  its  rays  can  be  seen  for  150  miles  on  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  Its  beams  falling  upon  a  newspaper  35 
miles  away  will  enable  a  person  to  easily  read  it.  Our 
time  is  up,  and  boarding  the  "White  Chariot"  we  com- 


90  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

mence  our  descent  of  the  great  cable  incline,  reaching 
the  bottom  in  safety.  A  photographer  is  on  hand  and 
"pressed  the  button"  on  the  car  and  contents. 

On  our  trip  to  and  fro  to-day  we  passed  in  sight  of  the 
beautiful  home  of  Professor  Lowe,  near  Pasadena,  and 
returning  I  had  the  pleasure  and  honor  of  meeting  and 
conversing  with  him  during  the  twenty  minutes  we  rode 
together  on  the  Pasadena  and  Los  Angeles  Electric 
Railway.  I  was  introduced  to  the  professor  by  Brother 
Edward  Butcher,  and  we  took  a  seat  together.  He  is  a 
large  man  of  fine  appearance  and  carries  himself  with 
the  graceful  mien  of  a  brigadier-general ;  his  eye  is  bright 
and  kind,  his  voice  gentle  and  agreeable,  and  we  are  the 
best  of  friends  in  a  minute.  "Professor,"  I  remarked, 
"there  are  but  a  very  few  of  the  people,  I  warrant,  who 
ascend  that  marvelous  cable  incline,  who  enjoy  the 
pleasure  and  excitement  of  that  unequaled  ride  among 
the  wild,  magnificent  mountain  scenery  of  your  Alpine 
Division  on  a  comfortable  trolley  car,  that  ever  give  a 
second  thought  to  the  men  who  endured  hardships  and 
risked  their  lives  to  even  survey  a  road  like  that.  I  have 
thought  of  this  several  times  to-day,  and  would  like  to 
ask  how  you  ever  induced  men  to  traverse  those  cliffs 
and  peaks  and  canon  walls,  where  a  mountain  goat  can 
hardly  secure  a  footing?"  "Well,"  answered  the  profes- 
sor, "you  know  there  are  no  hardships  so  severe  they 
will  not  be  endured,  no  risks  so  great  they  will  not  be 
taken,  if  only  men  have  a  leader  to  follow  and  are  well 
paid  for  following  him.  Long  before  a  measurement 
was  taken  or  a  stake  was  driven,  when  the  idea  that  such 
a  road  were  possible  first  entered  my  mind,  I  spent  many 
days  with  only  an  employed  attendant  my  companion, 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  QI 

in  making  my  way  from  Rubio  Canon  to  the  crest  of  the 
highest  peak  along  the  route  which  you  traveled  with  so 
much  pleasure  to-day  in  less  than  90  minutes.  I  headed 
every  surveying  party  that  went  out  in  the  interest  of 
the  enterprise.  I  have  personally  directed  all  the  opera- 
tions that  have  required  engineering  skill  and  experi- 
ence; I  have  expended  almost  one  and  a  half  millions  of 
dollars,  and  my  work  isn't  completed  yet."  "That  is  an 
enormous  sum  of  money  to  invest  in  a  venture,  or  rather 
an  experiment,  that  you  don't  know  will  pay  till  you  try 
it,"  I  ventured  to  assert,  while  secretly  admiring  the 
indomitable  courage  and  spirit  of  the  man.  "Yes,  it  is 
a  great  deal  of  money,"  was  the  reply,  and  I  imagined 
that  a  sigh  accompanied  the  words.  "As  a  financial 
scheme  I  believe  it  will  be  a  failure.  I  have  no  hope  of 
ever  getting  out  of  it  what  money  I  have  put  in  it,  but  to 
me  this  is  only  a  secondary  matter.  I've  watched  a 
vague  visionary  dream  grow  into  a  bright  reality;  I've 
had  cherished  theories,  condemned  as  insane  and  im- 
practicable, converted  into  substantial  facts;  I  have 
solved  the  greatest  engineering  and  mechanical  problems 
that  ever  taxed  the  brain  of  man;  I've  won  the  hardest, 
toughest  intellectual  battle  that  ever  was  fought;  I've 
had  an  all-absorbing  ambition  gratified,  and  I  feel  that  I 
have,  in  a  measure,  got  the  worth  of  myjnoney."  As 
the  professor  ceased  speaking  there  was  a  bright  look  in 
his  eye  and  a  happy  expression  on  his  countenance  as 
though  it  were  a  great  pleasure  to  reflect  on  the  great 
work  he  had  accomplished.  The  car  was  approaching 
his  destination;  he  arose  to  go  and  extended  his  hand. 
As  I  took  it  he  said,  "When  you  come  again  you  can 
extend  your  ride  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  for  I 


92  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

propose  to  complete  the  work  in  a  short  time;  and  you 
must  stay  longer,  for  in  your  hurried  trip  to-day  there  is 
much  you  didn't  see,  and  I  would  wish  that  you  could 
see  it  all;  goodbye."  The  car  stopped  and  he  was  gone. 
As  he  disappeared  from  view  I  said  to  myself,  "There 
goes  a  wonderful  man." 

Continuing  a  few  blocks  further  we  left  the  car  and 
visited  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  and  spent  half  an 
hour  among  its  interesting  relics  and  curiosities.  When 
we  reach  our  train  the  most  of  our  people  are  there, 
the  time  for  starting  being  almost  up.  We  bid  adieu 
to  the  kind  friends  we  have  made  while  here,  and  who 
did  all  they  could  to  make  our  short  stay  a  pleasant 
one,  and  at  5.00  P.  M.  Eastern  (2.00  P.  M.  Pacific) 
we  pull  out  of  the  station  at  Los  Angeles  bound 
for  San  Francisco  and  the  "Golden  Gate,"  482  miles 
away. 

We  are  still  on  the  Southern  Pacific's  famous  "Sun- 
set Route,"  which  we  have  followed  since  leaving  Sierra 
Blanca.  S.  P.  engine  No.  1826  is  pulling  us,  with 
Engineer  Charlie  Hill  at  the  throttle.  She  is  fired  by 
E.  Homes,  who  has  a  hard  task  on  hand,  for  there 
are  steep  grades  to  climb  and  our  train  is  heavy.  Will- 
iam Perkins  is  conducting  the  train;  the  brakemen  are 
J.  B.  Freet  and  F.  W.  Bunnell.  These  three  gentlemen 
are  brothers  of  the  "Order"  and  members  of  El  Capi- 
tan  Division  No.  115,  of  San  Francisco.  They  are 
members  of  the  entertainment  committee  from  that  di- 
vision and  have  been  selected  to  run  our  train  that  they 
may  be  able  to  look  after  our  welfare.  J.  C.  Fielding, 
also  a  member  of  El  Capitan  Division  and  of  the  com- 
mittee, is  a  guest  on  the  train,  along  with  Brother  Twist, 


T.    S.    C.    LOWE. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  93 

of  Golden  Gate  Division  No.  364,  of  Oakland,  Cal., 
also  a  member  of  the  committee. 

Following  the  course  of  Los  Angeles  River  as  we 
leave  the  "City  of  Angels"  behind  us,  we  pass  for  quite 
a  distance  through  a  fine  farming  country,  where  hun- 
dreds of  acres  of  barley  are  being  gathered  for  hay  into 
great  heaps  and  stacks. 

"Brother  Freet,"  I  ask,  as  we  sit  near  the  wide-open 
door  of  the  baggage  compartment  looking  out  on  the 
fleeting  landscape,  "do  they  feed  their  stock  altogether 
on  barley  hay  in  California?"  "Not  entirely.  What 
makes  you  think  so?"  is  the  inquiring  answer.  "It 
looks  so  from  the  fact  that  in  all  the  arable  country  we 
have  passed  through  since  entering  this  State,  outside 
of  fruit  and  flower  culture,  I  have  noticed  no  other 
product  than  barley,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  patches 
of  alfalfa  grass,"  I  reply.  "You  are  right,"  is  the  re- 
sponse, "so  far  as  concerns  that  part  of  the  country  you 
have  seen ;  although  if  you  traverse  the  State  from  end  to 
end  you  will  see  comparatively  little  of  it.  There  are 
sections  of  California  where  abundant  crops  of  corn  are 
raised,  but  while  it  has  never  achieved  distinction  as  a 
corn  producing  State,  it  is  second  to  no  State  in  the 
Union  in  its  yield  of  wheat.  The  entire  area  of  the 
State  of  Indiana  would  be  insufficient  to  cover  the  wheat 
fields  of  California,  which  yielded  last  year  almost 
40,000,000  bushels ;  but  speaking  of  barley,  cut  as  it  is  in 
a  green  state  after  the  grain  has  formed  and  cured  for 
hay,  it  makes  a  valuable  and  nourishing  food  for  stock, 
upon  which  they  will  fatten  without  additional  grain 
feed." 

Since  leaving  Los  Angeles  our  course  has  been  up- 


94  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

ward,  and  now  as  we  pass  the  little  station  of  Fer- 
nando, we  are  close  to  the  San  Fernando  Range,  25 
miles  northwest  of  Los  Angeles  and  over  noo  feet 
above  it.  A  tunnel  one  and  one-quarter  miles  in  length 
pierces  the  above-named  range,  and  into  this  we  now 
plunge.  It  is  a  dark  hole,  an  undesirable  place  to  be; 
our  train  runs  slowly,  and  the  cars  become  filled  with 
smoke  and  gas  that  is  almost  suffocating;  we  do  no 
talking  and  as  little  breathing  as  possible  for  an  interval 
of  ten  or  twelve  minutes,  when  we  again  emerge  into 
the  open  air  and  sunshine  and  breathe  freely  once  more. 
We  have  left  the  scenes  of  agricultural  industry  behind 
us  and  again  enter  a  region  of  unproductive  sterility 
and  aridity.  We  pass  through  the  little  town  of  Sau- 
gus,  from  which  place  a  branch  road  runs  to  Santa  Bar- 
bara, yet  the  country  don't  improve.  We  are  strongly 
reminded  of  the  Colorado  Desert:  alkali  dust,  glaring 
sand,  stunted  sage  brush,  and  cactus  on  every  hand. 
The  elevation  here  is  about  3000  feet  higher  than  the 
Colorado  Desert,  but  the  conditions  seem  about  the 
same. 

Midway  between  Saugus  and  Mojave  we  enter  the 
western  border  of  the  Great  Mojave  Desert,  which  we 
follow  for  several  miles;  here  we  are  treated  to  novel, 
interesting,  and  remarkable  scenery.  On  the  right  as 
far  as  the  range  of  vision  extends  stretches  the  vast 
Mojave  Desert,  with  its  lavish  growth  of  magnificent 
giant  cactus,  many  of  them  from  25  to  40  feet  in  height, 
with  branched  and  bushy  tops,  from  the  centre  of  which 
in  many  cases  can  be  seen  protruding  an  immense  pink- 
ish bloom. 

This  great  desert,  with  its  wonderful  and  peculiar 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  95 

plant  life,  extends,  we  are  told,  away  off  hundreds  of 
miles  into  Nevada  and  Arizona.  On  the  left  the  scen- 
ery is  different.  You  gaze  off  and  across  the  great 
Antelope  Valley,  80  miles  in  width,  level  as  a  floor  and 
almost  devoid  of  tree  or  bush.  It  looks  brown  and 
barren,  but  we  are  informed  it  is  considered  good  graz- 
ing territory.  The  grass,  though  dead  and  dry  at  cer- 
tain seasons  of  the  year,  like  that  of  the  San  Simon 
Valley  in  Arizona,  retains  all  its  nutritious  qualities  and 
flavor,  and  stock  feed  upon  it  with  apparent  relish. 

Owing  to  unfavorable  natural  conditions  and  sur- 
roundings, it  is  hardly  expected  that  we  will  encounter 
a  very  extensive  population,  but  what  few  people  we 
do  meet  who  are  residents  of  the  country  are  principally 
employees  of  the  railroad  company,  around  whose  sta- 
tions usually  cluster  a  group  of  snug  and  neat-looking 
cottages  built  by  the  company  for  the  use  of  the  men  and 
their  families.  Good  water  can  be  obtained  at  a  reason- 
able depth,  and  wind  mills  are  used  for  pumping.  Patches 
of  ground  are  irrigated  and  cultivated,  upon  which  are 
grown  flowers,  fruit,  and  vegetables.  Our  train  slows 
up  and  stops  for  water  at  one  of  these  oases  in  the  desert, 
and  looking  out  the  window  I  discover  that  it  is  quite  a 
town.  A  number  of  our  people  have  left  the  train  and 
are  looking  around. 

Alighting  from  the  train  in  front  of  the  station  I  look 
up  and  see  the  old  familiar  homelike  name  of  Lancaster 
above  the  door.  Everything  bears  evidence  of  thrift  and 
good  living,  even  to  an  almost  empty  ice-cream  can  that 
sits  inside  the  waiting-room  door,  and  which,  with  other 
things,  is  being  inspected  and  investigated.  Time  is  up, 
"All  aboard"  is  shouted,  we  scramble  on,  and  as  the 


96  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

train  moves  off  Brother  Houston,  who  is  fast  in  the 
ice-cream  can,  came  near  being  left.  At  Mojave,  another 
thrifty  town  of  considerable  size,  where  connections  are 
made  with  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Railway,  our  train 
stops  to  attach  a  helper  engine.  After  a  delay  of  five 
minutes  we  resume  our  journey,  assisted  by  Engineer 
Cain  and  Fireman  Curren  with  engine  No.  1808. 

As  we  leave  Mojave  it  is  growing  dusk,  and  by  the 
time  we  reach  the  summit  of  the  grade  and  stop  at 
Tehachapi  it  has  become  quite  dark.  This  we  all  ex- 
ceedingly regret,  for  we  are  now  about  to  enter  upon 
the  most  wonderful  and  interesting  33  miles  of  road  on 
the  whole  Southern  Pacific  system,  where  we  drop  from 
an  elevation  of  4025  feet  to  that  of  672.  Making  the 
descent  of  3553  feet  requires  an  almost  continual  ap- 
plication of  the  air  brakes,  which  heats  the  brake  shoes 
red  hot  and  makes  the  fire  fly.  We  feel  concerned  and 
wish  we  could  see.  We  know  at  one  time  we  are 
going  around  a  sharp  curve  and  at  another  time  pitch- 
ing down  a  grade  much  steeper  than  usual,  and  very 
often  we  find  we  are  doing  both  at  one  and  the  same 
time.  We  look  out  of  the  window  on  one  side  and 
see  a  towering  mountain  wall,  so  near  you  can  touch  it 
with  your  hand;  we  look  out  on  the  other  side,  and 
see  nothing,  only  a  seemingly  illimitable  depth,  filled 
with  darkness  and  uncertainty;  and  this  is  the  grand, 
picturesque  Tehachapi  Pass,  whose  sinuous  windings, 
devious  ways,  complex  maneuvering,  and  bewildering 
curves  compels  the  railroad  to  run  over  top  and  under- 
neath itself,  forming  the  extraordinary  famous  Loop. 

We  had  heard  much  of  it,  and  we  all  expected  to  see 
it;  our  only  hope  and  desire  now  is  to  get  safely  away 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  97 

from  it  and  beyond  it  to  straight  track  and  level  coun- 
try once  more.  All  good  things  must  have  an  ending, 
and  bad  things  can't  last  forever,  so  the  novelty  and  ex- 
citement of  our  toboggan-like  mountain  ride  and  its 
two  hours'  suspense  is  over  as  our  train  stops  at  Bakers- 
field,  where  another  change  of  engines  is  made. 

It  is  now  past  midnight  in  Philadelphia,  12.50  A.  M.; 
at  Bakersfield  it  is  only  9.50  P.  M.,  but  many  of  our 
people  are  retiring,  for  it  has  been  a  day  fraught  with 
pleasure  and  excitement,  wearing  both  on  the  mind 
and  body,  and  we  all  need  rest  and  plenty  of  it  to  pre- 
pare us  for  the  approaching  morrow.  "Captain,"  I  said, 
as  Brother  Perkins  came  down  the  curtained  aisle  of 
the  "Marco,"  while  I  was  wrestling  with  a  refractory 
collar  button  preparing  to  turn  in,  "will  you  kindly  give 
me  the  number  of  the  engine  that  is  drawing  us  and 
the  names  of  the  engineer  and  fireman?  I  am  trying 
to  keep  a  record  of  the  engines  and  crews  that  handle 
us,  and  I  don't  wish  to  miss  any."  "Certainly,"  is  the 
response;  "we  have  engine  No.  1417  that  runs  to  Men- 
dota,  140  miles;  the  engineer's  and  fireman's  names  are 
Cole;  the  Cole  Boys  we  call  them — good,  lively  fellows." 
"With  two  live  Coles  in  the  cab  and  lots  of  them  in  the 
firebox,  I  guess  we  will  reach  Mendota  on  time,"  came 
the  smothered  comment  in  a  drowsy  tone  from  the  berth 
of  Manager  Wyman. 

FRIDAY,  MAY  21st. 

Awakened  this  morning  about  six  o'clock  by  Mrs.  S., 
always  an  early  riser,  who  exclaims,  "Get  up!  get  up! 
we're  almost  there."  "Almost  where,  my  dear?"  I 
sleepily  inquire.  "I  don't  know  where,  but  Mr.  Terry, 


98  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

Mr.  Brown,  Mr.  Horner,  and  Mr.  Springer  are  all  up, 
and  they  say  we  are  nearly  there,"  she  answers.  I  turn 
over,  raise  the  blind,  and  look  out  of  the  window.  "And 
Mr.  McDonald  says  we're  going  to  have  an  early  break- 
fast," she  adds,  as  she  retreats  down  the  aisle.  That 
last  information  she  knows  will  fetch  me  if  nothing 
else  will,  but  I'm  still  looking  out  of  the  window  won- 
dering where  we  are;  thought  at  first  we  had  lost  our 
way  in  the  intricate  descent  of  the  Tehachapi  Range, 
got  tangled  up  in  the  Loop,  turned  around,  and  were 
again  entering  Los  Angeles. 

What  magic  had  been  at  work  during  the  night?  The 
world  outside  is  teeming  with  verdant  vegetation.  Fruit- 
laden  trees,  rose-burdened  bushes,  green  grass,  and 
flowers  everywhere.  I  quickly  roll  out  of  my  berth  and 
dress,  or  rather  I  nearly  roll  out  of  my  berth  while 
quickly  dressing,  for  one  inconvenience  of  this  way  of 
living  is,  you've  got  to  dress  and  then  get  out  of  bed, 
watching  yourself  very  closely  that  you  don't  involun- 
tarily get  out  before  you're  ready,  for  when,  with  one 
leg  in  your  pants  and  about  to  put  the  other  one  in,  your 
car  hits  a  curve,  look  out. 

The  first  person  I  meet  as  I  enter  the  smoker  is  the 
conductor  who  is  running  the  train.  "Good  morning, 
captain;  where  are  we?"  I  ask.  "We  are  entering 
Port  Costa,  25  miles  from  Oakland,"  he  answers. 
"Have  you  time  to  give  me  the  number  of  your  engine 
and  the  names  of  your  crew?"  I  inquire,  with  every-ready 
notebook  in  hand,  as  he  was  about  turning  away,  for  the 
train  is  stopping  at  the  station.  "We  left  Mendota  this 
morning  at  two  o'clock  with  engine  No.  1408,  Engineer 
Edwards,  Fireman  Duran,  Brakemen  Owen  and  Todd, 


GEORGE   W.   BROWN,    OF  THE  COMMITTEE. 


ON   A  PULLMAN   TRAIN.  99 

and  my  name  is  Schu,"  he  hurriedly  said  as  he  left  the 
car  and  enters  the  telegraph  office.  In  a  short  time 
Conductor  Schu  comes  out  of  the  office  with  train  orders 
and  our  train  is  soon  on  its  way  again. 

At  10.30  A.  M.  Eastern  (7.30  Pacific)  we  reach  Oak- 
land (Sixteenth  Street),  where  we  lay  for  an  hour  and  a 
half.  It  is  a  tedious  wait.  We  cannot  leave  the  train, 
for  we  do  not  know  at  what  minute  it  might  conclude  to 
go,  and  none  of  us  want  to  get  left.  We  stroll  around, 
first  on  one  side  of  the  train  and  then  on  the  other,  keep- 
ing one  eye  on  it  for  fear  it  will  get  away  from  us  and 
careful  not  to  get  too  far  out  of  its  reach.  We  can  see 
that  Oakland  is  a  large  and  beautiful  city,  and  learn  that 
it  has  a  population  of  60,000  inhabitants;  a  place  where 
flowers  bloom  on  the  lawns,  fruits  mature  in  the 
orchards,  vegetables  grow  in  the  gardens,  and  grains  are 
harvested  in  the  fields  each  and  every  month  in  the  year. 
It  has  mountain  scenery  back  of  it  and  an  ocean  view 
in  front  of  it;  another  blooming  paradise  where  desolat- 
ing storms  are  unknown  and  frosts  and  snows  are  never 
seen. 

Finding  our  train  about  to  move  we  all  get  aboard 
and  in  a  few  minutes  are  landed  at  Oakland  Pier,  where 
we  wait  half  an  hour  for  a  boat  to  convey  us  eight  miles 
across  the  bay  to  San  Francisco.  We  employ  the  time 
in  looking  about  the  large,  commodious  waiting  room 
that  overlooks  the  harbor.  We  can't  help  noticing  that 
this  apartment  contains  something  that  is  never  seen 
in  a  station  waiting  room  on  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
system.  A  profusion  of  advertisements  of  all  kinds 
literally  cover  the  walls,  and  occupying  a  space  in  the 
centre  of  the  floor  is  a  large  glass  case  containing  a 


IOO  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

pyramid  of  bottles  filled  with  liquors  of  various  kinds 
and  brands,  advertising  the  goods  of  a  whiskey  firm 
down  on  Front  Street.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  there 
is  a  railing  around  the  exhibit  and  the  door  of  the  case 
is  locked.  One  of  the  ticket  collectors,  an  active  old 
gentleman,  quick  in  his  movements  as  a  boy,  informs  us 
that  he  has  been  in  his  present  position  for  nineteen 
years;  and  although  seventy  years  old,  the  climate  is  so 
healthy  he  feels  that  he  is  growing  younger  every  day. 
It  is  announced  that  the  boat  is  now  ready,  and  we 
"walk  the  plank"  leading  to  the  deck  of  the  "Oakland," 
which  is  soon  plowing  a  furrow  in  the  waters  of  the  bay 
as  she  heads  for  the  "Queen  City"  of  the  Pacific.  It  is 
not  such  a  boat  ride  as  one  can  term  "lovely";  it  is  not 
even  agreeable.  A  chilly  gale  sweeps  the  deck  that 
almost  lifts  you  off  your  feet.  "Golly,  it's  worse  than  a 
trip  from  Camden  to  Philadelphia  in  December,"  ex- 
claims Brother  Goff,  as  he  turns  up  the  collar  of  his 
coat.  "Or  one  from  Jersey  City  to  New  York  in  Febru- 
ary," adds  Brother  McKernan,  seeking  refuge  behind  a 
post.  The  most  of  us  retire  to  the  more  comfortable 
quarters  of  the  cabin,  where  we  find  enjoyment  in  view- 
ing from  the  windows  the  immense  bay  and  harbor, 
where  are  anchored  hundreds  of  vessels  of  all  kinds  and 
sizes.  As  the  "Oakland"  pokes  her  nose  against  the 
San  Francisco  dock  I  look  at  my  watch;  it  is  9.55  A.  M., 
Pacific  time.  We  have  just  been  twenty  minutes  com- 
ing across.  A  speed  of  a  mile  in  two  and  a  half  minutes 
is  a  pretty  lively  gait  for  a  ferryboat,  but  we  are  told 
the  "Oakland"  does  it  every  trip.  Under  the  escort  of 
Brother  Perkins,  we  are  loaded  into  cable  cars  and  start 
on  our  way  to  Sutrp  Garden  and  Golden  Gate  Park. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IOI 

I  believe  there's  hardly  three  squares  of  a  level  street 
in  the  whole  city  of  San  Francisco.  Such  hills  as  we  go 
up  and  such  hills  as  we  go  down  we  never  saw  in  any 
city  before.  "Why,  this  is  ten  times  worse  than  Balti- 
more, and  it's  bad  enough,  dear  knows,"  exclaims  Mrs. 
Kalkman  as  she  catches  Brother  Cohee  around  the  neck 
to  save  herself  from  falling  off  the  seat  as  the  car  shoots 
up  an  unusually  steep  acclivity.  "Here,  here,  don't  be 
so  affectionate;  Brother  Kalkman  and  Mrs.  Cohee  are 
looking  at  you,"  warns  Brother  Cohee.  "As  if  I'd  hug 
you  on  purpose,"  she  retorts,  giving  him  a  look  of  scorn. 
In  many  streets  a  horse  and  wagon  has  never  been  seen ; 
it  would  be  impossible  for  a  horse  to  draw  a  wagon  up 
those  abrupt  granite-paved  hills.  With  the  cable  car 
almost  on  end,  we  are  descending  one  of  those  "shoot 
the  chute"  like  declivities  extending  for  about  three 
blocks,  when  I  overhear  a  passenger,  evidently  a  resident 
of  the  neighborhood,  say  to  Mrs.  Shaw,  who  has  "struck 
up"  a  conversation  with  her,  "We  had  a  fire  here  in  our 
neighborhood  a  short  time  ago,  and  a  driver  of  one  of 
the  fire  engines  tried  to  bring  it  down  this  hill,  when  one 
of  the  horses  fell  down  and  the  engine  ran  over  it  and 
killed  it,  and  it  broke  the  engine  all  up  and  hurt  the  man ; 
it  was  just  awful."  The  car  stops  at  the  next  corner  and 
the  woman  gets  off;  glancing  back  at  the  hill  we  have 
just  descended  her  closing  words,  "just  awful,"  strike 
me  as  being  very  appropriate. 

A  few  squares  further  and  we  abandon  the  cable  cars 
and  take  a  little  steam  road  called  the  "Ferries  and 
Cliff"  Railroad  that  carries  us  to  Sutro  Park  and  bath- 
ing pavilion,  owned  by  Adolph  Sutro,  a  retired  million- 
aire merchant  of  San  Francisco,  and  to  the  celebrated 


IO2  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Cliff  House,  near  which  are  the  far-famed  Seal  Rocks. 
We  wandered  for  a  time  through  the  beautifully  laid 
out  statuary,  shrubbery,  and  flower-adorned  grounds  of 
Sutro,  then  to  the  great  pavilion,  that  not  only  contains 
a  large  museum  of  interesting  relics  and  curiosities,  but 
it  is  here  that  the  noted  Sutro  baths  are  located,  said 
to  be  the  finest  equipped  artificial  bathing  pools  in  the 
world. 

We  cannot  stand  the  temptation,  and  soon  many  of 
us  are  robed  in  bathing  suits  and  are  diving,  plunging, 
rolling,  and  splashing  in  the  salt  waters  of  the  Pacific, 
brought  here  and  warmed  to  the  proper  temperature, 
permitting  bathing  to  be  indulged  in  the  entire  year. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  we  have  lots  of  sport,  and 
those  who  decline  to  indulge  will  regret  it.  There  are 
several  strangers  in  the  pool,  and  Brother  Sheppard  has 
taken  quite  a  fancy  to  one  young  fellow,  whom  he  is 
trying  to  learn  to  swim  and  dive.  In  an  adjoining  pool 
is  rather  a  forlorn-looking  duck;  it  must  be  tame,  for 
it  is  quietly  swimming  around  undisturbed  by  the  noise 
we  make.  "I  think  it's  hungry,"  says  Brother  McCarty, 
"I  wish  I  had  some  crumbs."  The  creature  must  have 
heard  him,  for  we  imagine  it  gave  him  a  grateful  look. 

From  the  baths  we  go  to  the  Cliff  House,  and  from 
the  windows  of  the  inclosed  balcony,  that  almost  over- 
hangs the  waves  that  dash  and  roar  on  the  rocks  be- 
neath, we  watch  with  interest  the  monster  seals  that  by 
the  hundreds  climb  and  crawl  and  slip  and  slide  over 
the  crags  that  rise  from  the  bay,  while  we  regale  our- 
selves with  pork  and  beans  and  coffee.  There  is  a 
strong,  chilly  wind  blowing,  and  we  do  not  tarry  long 
on  the  bluff  outside  that  overlooks  the  bay  and  seals. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IO3 

It  is  twenty  minutes  past  two  as  we  get  aboard  a 
train  on  the  Park  and  Ocean  Railroad  that  will  con- 
vey us  to  Golden  Gate  Park.  We  do  not  find  this 
world-famed  park  very  different  in  appearance  from 
other  parks  we  have  seen.  It  is  all  nice — very  nice; 
beautiful  trees  and  plants  and  shrubbery,  velvety  green 
grass  and  bright  blooming  flowers,  fine  fountains  and 
lakes  of  shimmering  water.  All  this  we  see  and  enjoy, 
but  we  have  seen  the  like  before,  time  and  time  again. 
Some  are  bold  enough  to  so  express  themselves,  and  it 
catches  Brother  Perkins'  ear,  who  good-naturedly  says, 
"My  dear  friends,  there  is  but  one  Golden  Gate  Park 
in  all  the  world.  There  are  1040  acres  here  of  as  fine 
a  park  as  there  is  anywhere  under  the  sun,  and  when 
we  consider  that  25  years  ago  this  was  all  a  barren  tract 
of  drifting  sand  hills,  that  everything  you  see  grow- 
ing has  been  planted  and  is  kept  alive  and  green  and 
blooming  by  a  regular  and  almost  constant  application 
of  water,  when  you  remember  this,  then  you  will  feel 
and  think -that  this  park  is  a  little  different  from  any 
other  that  you  have  seen." 

We  had  already  commenced  to  think  it  was.  Amongst 
groves  of  trees  are  great  inclosures  containing  native 
buffalo,  elk,  and  deer,  with  so  much  room  to  roam  that 
they  hardly  feel  the  restraint  of  captivity.  We  enter 
the  immense  aviaries,  where  many  varieties  of  birds  and 
squirrels  flit  and  chirp  and  scamper  and  chatter  with 
all  the  freedom  and  unconcern  of  an  unlimited  out-door 
life.  As  we  leave  this  great  cage  with  its  sprightly, 
vociferous  occupants  I  hear  Brother  Reilly  say,  "Mc- 
Carty  has  got  a  'mash/  "  I  don't  quite  know  what  it 
is  that  Brother  McCarty  has  got,  but  suppose  it  is  some 


IO4  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

escaped  animal  or  bird  he  has  captured.  I  turn  and 
look,  to  find  him  surrounded  by  ladies  of  our  party, 
who  seem  to  be  trying  to  protect  him  from  impending 
harm.  Looking  closer,  I  see  disappearing  among  the 
shrubbery  McCarty's  "mash,"  the  cause  of  all  the  trou- 
ble, and  it  is  only  the  poor  bedraggled  duck  of  Sutro's 
bath  that  Brother  McCarty  had  thought  looked  hungry, 
and  our  ladies  had  scared  it  off.  Brother  Reagan  would 
have  recaptured  it  but  for  Miss  Ella's  restraining  hand, 
and  the  curiosity  is  lost. 

We  are  all  pretty  tired  when  at  last  the  street  cars 
are  boarded  and  we  are  on  our  way  to  the  ferry.  Some 
are  going  to  return  to  our  train,  which  lies  in  Oakland, 
and  some  will  remain  in  this  city.  Mrs.  S.  and  myself 
called  on  Mrs.  David  Chambers,  who,  with  her  son 
and  daughter,  Willie  and  Effie,  live  on  Mission  Street. 
Years  ago  Mrs.  Chambers  and  her  family  were  neigh- 
bors to  us  in  West  Chester,  Pa.  Willie,  when  but  a 
lad,  was  advised  to  try  the  climate  of  the  Pacific  coast 
for  his  health.  He  found  both  health  and  lucrative  em- 
ployment. Ten  years  ago  he  sent  East  for  his  mother 
and  sister.  We  find  them  to-day  enjoying  excellent 
health  and  nicely  and  comfortably  fixed.  We  are  given 
a  warm,  cordial  welcome  and  persuaded  to  spend  the 
night  with  them. 

In  the  evening  after  dinner  Willie  took  me  Qut  to 
see  the  town.  The  ladies  declined  to  go,  preferring 
to  remain  indoors  and  talk  over  old  times.  Met  Leslie 
Collom,  a  young  gentleman  friend  of  the  Chambers', 
but  he  having  other  engagements  could  not  go.  Willie 
knows  the  town  and  I  follow  where  he  leads.  It  has 
long  been  a  desire  with  me  to  see  San  Francisco's 


ON   A   PULLMAN    TRAIN.  10$ 

"Chinatown,"  and  for  three  hours  we  explore  its  dark- 
ness and  its  mysteries.  We  do  not  attempt  to  go  very 
far  up  and  we  don't  try  to  get  very  far  down — we  steer 
about  on  a  level ;  but  we  see  enough  to  convince  me  that 
Chinatown  is  all  that  it  is  said  to  be.  You  don't  have 
to  ascend  into  rickety,  reeking  lofts  or  descend  into 
gloomy,  foul  dens  to  witness  their  degradation,  weak- 
ness, and  misery;  far  back  in  dark,  forbidding  alleys 
and  bystreets,  which  make  your  flesh  creep  to  traverse, 
you  can  find  them  huddled  together  on  benches  and 
shelves,  like  chickens  on  a  roost,  enveloped  in  disgust- 
ing, stupefying  smoke. 

On  our  way  home  we  dropped  into  a  private  museum 
and  saw  one  of  the  rarest  and  most  wonderful  pieces  of 
Japanese  art  in  the  world,  a  realistic,  life-size  statue  of  a 
man  carved  from  wood.  It  is  claimed  that  this  work  has 
been  examined  by  learned  scientific  men,  skilled  in 
anatomy  and  physiology,  and  not  a  line  or  lineament  of 
the  skin  surface  of  the  human  body  has  been  omitted  in 
this  delicate,  intricate  carving.  The  finger  nails  are 
there  and  all  the  fine  lines  that  can  be  traced  on  the  in- 
side of  the  hand  and  fingers.  There  are  many  lines  on 
the  surface  of  the  human  body  that  require  the  aid  of  a 
magnifying  glass  to  discern ;  with  the  glass  all  these  lines 
can  be  seen  carved  on  this  wonderful  piece  of  art.  It  is 
midnight  when  we  get  home,  and,  thoroughly  tired,  we 
are  soon  in  bed  and  in  the  land  of  dreams. 

SATURDAY,   MAY  22d. 

Arose  this  morning  about  half-past  six,  and  after 
breakfast,  accompanied  by  Leslie  Collom,  went  to  the 
Palace  Hotel,  where  we  met  Brothers  Wyman  and  Lay- 


IO6  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

field  with  their  ladies.  Brother  Wyman  had  planned  a 
trip  to  San  Jose  and  was  expecting  others  of  the  party, 
but  a  number  of  them  being  exhausted,  worn  out  by  an 
all  night's  effort  to  explore  the  length,  breadth,  height, 
and  depth  of  Chinatown,  were  still  in  bed.  The  others 
were  too  much  interested  in  the  beautiful  city  of  Oak- 
land and  its  environments  to  come,  for  we  hear  the  good 
people  over  there  are  showing  them  a  royal  time,  the 
municipal  authorities  giving  them  the  freedom  of  the 
city  and  the  railway  company  the  freedom  of  their  lines. 
Finding  that  no  others  are  coming,  we  six  board  a 
Southern  Pacific  train  on  the  Coast  Division,  that  ex- 
tends from  San  Francisco  to  Monterey,  bound  for  San 
Jose,  a  ride  of  fifty  miles.  Mr.  Collom  is  a  very  much 
appreciated  member  of  our  little  party,  as  he  points  out 
from  time  to  time  much  that  interests  us.  As  the  train 
pulls  out  through  the  city  he  shows  us  the  church  where 
Blanche  Lamont  and  Minnie  Williams  were  found  mur- 
dered and  a  little  further  on  he  points  out  the  house 
where  Durrant,  the  convicted  murderer  had  lived. 

The  road  runs  between  the  ocean  and  the  bay  and  as 
we  pass  the  station  of  Ocean  View  a  broad  expanse  of 
the  Pacific  greets  our  vision.  At  Baden  we  get  pretty 
close  to  the  shore  of  the  bay  and  follow  it  until  we  leave 
Burlingame,  a  distance  of  about  eight  miles.  We  pass 
Menlo  Park  and  Palo  Alto,  when  our  attention  is  called 
by  Mr.  Collom  to  a  group  of  low-built,  red-roofed,  sub- 
stantial-looking buildings,  a  short  distance  from  the  road 
on  our  right,  almost  hidden  from  view  by  the  trees  that 
cluster  about  them.  "That,"  says  Mr.  Collom,  "is  the 
renowned  Leland  Stanford  University,  founded  in  1885 
by  the  multi-millionaire  Leland  Stanford  and  his  wife 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IO/ 

as  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  their  only  child,  Le- 
land,  Jr.,  who  had  died  a  short  time  before.  Eighty- 
three  thousand  acres  of  land,  valued  at  $20,000,000,  was 
dedicated  by  a  deed  of  trust  for  the  establishment  of  this 
institution.  Mr.  Stanford  selected  the  site  for  the  loca- 
tion of  the  buildings,  and  the  corner  stone  was  laid  in 
1887,  ten  years  ago.  Last  year  the  school  register 
showed  an  enrollment  of  noo  pupils.  Tuition  is  free, 
both  males  and  females  are  admitted,  and  the  students 
are  from  all  parts  of  America." 

As  we  leave  Mountain  View  Station  Mr.  Collom  sug- 
gests that  we  now  give  the  scenery  on  the  left  of  the  train 
our  attention,  at  the  same  time  pointing  out  in  the  far  dis- 
tance a  mountain  peak,  saying,  "San  Jose  is  10  miles 
from  here,  and  almost  on  a  direct  line  with  this  point,  and 
the  crest  of  that  mountain,  30  miles  away,  is  Mt.  Hamil- 
ton, where  the  famous  Lick  Observatory  is  located.  It 
has  an  elevation  of  almost  4500  feet,  and  if  you  only  had 
time  to  go  up  there  it  is  a  trip  worth  taking." 

Leaving  Santa  Clara  Station  we  pass  near  a  large,  fine 
park,  among  the  trees  of  which  can  be  seen  beautiful, 
substantial  buildings.  "That  is  Santa  Clara  Female 
College,"  said  Mr.  Collom. 

The  train  now  enters  San  Jose,  and  we  alight  at  the 
station.  A  "Vendome"  hack  is  in  waiting,  which  we 
enter,  and  are  driven  to  tHat  superb  hostelry,  said  to  be 
one  of  the  finest  hotels  in  California.  It  is  situated  in 
the  centre  of  a  beautiful  12-acre  park,  only  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  railroad  station.  Not  having  long  to 
stay,  after  a  few  minutes  rest  we  bid  the  genial  host 
good-day  and  start  out  for  a  little  walk. 

"We  will  return  by  the  narrow-gauge  road,"   says 


108  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

Brother  Wyman,  "if  we  can  find  the  station."  "A  man 
told  me  a  little  while  ago  that  it  is  only  five  blocks  over 
in  this  direction,"  replies  the  Colonel,  indicating  with  his 
finger  the  way  we  should  go.  "Yes,  the  narrow-gauge 
road  runs  through  that  part  of  the  town,  but  I  think  you 
will  find  it  farther  than  five  blocks,"  remarks  Mr.  Collom. 
"Well,  we  want  to  see  the  town,  anyway,  and  we'll  take 
our  time,"  responded  the  Colonel.  "This  is  a  pretty 
large  town  as  well  as  a  pretty  old  one,  is  it  not,  Mr. 
Collom?"  I  ask.  "Yes,"  is  the  answer.  "It  was  first 
settled  when  Santa  Clara  Mission  was  founded,  120  years 
ago.  It  has  now  a  population  of  about  25,000,  and  is 
the  county  seat  of  Santa  Clara  County,  one  of  the  richest 
counties  in  agricultural  products  and  fruits  in  the  State. 
Because  of  the  wealth  of  fertility  surrounding  it  San 
Jose  has  long  been  known  as  the  'Garden  City'  of  Cali- 
fornia." 

Sauntering  along,  with  our  eyes  wide  open  for  the 
sights  of  the  town,  and  keeping  as  much  in  the  shade  as 
possible,  for  the  sun  shines  very  warm,  we  are  getting 
all  the  enjoyment  out  of  the  situation  possible;  but 
things  are  becoming  less  interesting.  We  are  all  hungry 
and  the  ladies  are  becoming  tired ;  we  have  already  come 
seven  blocks,  and  the  Colonel  says,  "We  are  nearly  there; 
but  to  be  sure  of  it  I  will  ask  this  man,"  he  adds,  as  a 
man  leading  a  horse  came  around  the  corner  toward  us. 
"My  good  man,"  says  the  Colonel,  "can  you  tell  us  how 
far  it  is  to  the  narrow-gauge  railroad  station  from  here?" 
"Yes,  sir;  'bout  five  blocks,"  is  the  answer.  "You're 
sure  it's  not  ten?"  retorts  Brother  Wyman;  but  the  man 
and  horse,  never  stopping,  were  out  of  range,  and  the 
shot  missed  the  mark. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IOO, 

"I'm  hungry,"  exclaims  Mrs.  Wyman.  "So  am  I," 
I  add.  "I  guess  we  can  all  eat  if  we  have  a  chance," 
asserts  Brother  Wyman.  "We'll  look  for  a  restaurant," 
says  the  Colonel.  A  walk  of  two  squares  farther  brings 
us  to  the  looked-for  establishment,  which  we  enter,  and 
after  partaking  of  a  substantial  lunch,  I  ask  the  man  at 
the  desk,  and  I  try  to  do  it  without  feeling  or  agitation, 
making  just  the  plain,  quiet  inquiry,  "Will  you  tell  us, 
please,  how  far  it  is  to  the  narrow-gauge  railroad  sta- 
tion?" "Five  blocks  straight  ahead,"  is  the  pleasant, 
quiet  reply,  as  he  waves  his  hand  in  the  direction  we  are 
to  go.  Not  a  word  from  one  of  our  party.  I  take  a 
second  look  at  the  man  to  see  if  I  can  discover  in  that 
pleasant  countenance  the  least  shadow  of  deception;  it  is 
as  innocent  and  guileless  as  the  face  of  day. 

We  silently  leave  the  place,  and  as  we  start  up  the 
street  Mrs.  Layfield,  taking  the  Colonel's  arm,  gently 
asks,  "John,  are  we  going  to  walk  to  San  Francisco?" 
"Not  if  we  can  find  the  station,"  says  the  Colonel. 

We  enter  the  large  store  of  a  wine  merchant  to  look 
around,  and  are  courteously  treated  by  the  gentlemanly 
proprietor,  who  gave  the  ladies  each  a  bottle  of  wine. 
We  have  come  four  blocks  and  a  half  since  lunch  and  are 
looking  for  the  station,  when  suddenly  the  Colonel  ex- 
claims, "There's  the  road;  I  thought  that  last  fellow  was 
telling  the  truth."  "But  that's  not  the  road  we  want; 
that's  a  trolley  road,"  replies  Brother  Wyman.  "So  it 
is,"  admits  the  Colonel;  "but  there's  a  man;  I'll  ask  him," 
he  adds,  referring  to  a  man  in  uniform  who  was  leaning 
up  against  the  fence. 

'Tor  Lord's  sake,"  pleads  the  Colonel,  "will  you  tell 
us  how  far  it  is  to  the  narrow-gauge  railroad  station?" 


110  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

"About  a  square  and  a  half,"  answers  the  man,  smiling 
at  the  Colonel's  earnestness.  "Are  you  sure  it's  no  fur- 
ther than  that?"  asks  the  Colonel.  "Quite  sure,"  is  the 
reply.  "How  soon  can  we  get  a  train  for  San  Fran- 
cisco?" inquires  Manager  Wyman.  "In  about  an  hour 
and  a  half.  Where're  you  from?"  he  answers  and  asks 
at  the  same  time.  "From  Philadelphia,  Pennsylvania. 
Where's  your  road  go?"  imitates  Brother  Wyman.  The 
man  laughs.  "I'm  unable  to  take  you  home,  for  I  don't 
go  that  far,"  he  replies,  "but  I  can  take  you  several  miles 
and  back  through  as  fine  a  fruit  country  as  you  ever  saw. 
I  am  waiting  to  relieve  the  man  on  the  car  you  see  com- 
ing, and  in  a  few  minutes  I  will  be  going  back.  The 
fare  is  only  a  nickel,"  he  adds,  as  a  hint  that  we  musn't 
expect  to  ''deadhead"  it. 

We  conclude  to  go,  to  pass  the  time  away,  for  we  can 
easily  get  back  in  time  to  catch  our  train.  So  we  get 
aboard  the  car,  pay  our  nickel,  and  ride  for  several  miles 
to  a  place  called  the  Willows,  which  is  the  terminus  of 
the  road.  Here  is  located  an  immense  cherry  orchard, 
where  the  crop  is  being  gathered  and  crated  ready  for 
shipment  to  Eastern  markets. 

We  are  invited  to  help  ourselves;  it  is  half  an  hour 
before  our  car  starts  back  and  we  have  time  to  accept  the 
invitation.  The  ripest  cherries  are  the  ones  the  packers 
reject,  so  we  assisted  the  packers  for  several  minutes 
picking  out  the  ripe  cherries  and  packing  them  while 
the  packers  packed  the  ones  we  didn't  pick.  When  we 
got  tired  of  packing  we  quit  picking,  and  thanking  the 
good  people  for  the  treat,  we  board  the  car  again  and 
are  soon  spinning  up  the  line  among  the  apricot  and 
cherry  orchards,  the  trees  loaded  with  fruit. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  Ill 

Arriving  at  our  destination,  we  bid  our  friend,  tire  con- 
ductor, goodbye,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  reach  the 
much-inquired-for  "narrow-gauge  railroad  station," 
where  we  wait  half  an  hour  for  the  train.  We  find  the 
track  composed  of  three  rails;  and  as  though  to  demon- 
strate to  us  the  use  of  the  third  rail,  a  freight  train  comes 
along  made  up  of  both  narrow  and  broad-gauge  cars. 
It  looks  odd,  for  it  is  something  we  had  never  seen  be- 
fore, and  as  the  strange  combination  passes  down  the 
road  the  Colonel  remarks,  "There  is  nothing  but  what 
we  may  expect  to  see." 

In  due  time  our  train  pulls  into  the  station  and  we  are 
soon  seated  in  a  comfortable  narrow-gauge  coach  and 
speeding  toward  Oakland.  There  are  many  beautiful 
towns  and  residences  located  on  this  line,  and  as  we  draw 
nearer  its  termination  this  fact  becomes  more  noticeable, 
the  town  of  Alameda,  through  which  we  pass,  possessing 
all  the  loveliness  of  a  fairyland  with  its  palatial  residences 
and  magnificent  lawns. 

Oakland,  the  "Athens  of  the  Pacific,"  is  reached  at 
last,  and  knowing  how  fascinating  and  grand  it  is  and 
how  royally  our  people  are  being  treated,  I  am  loath  to 
leave;  but  our  friends  on  the  other  side  await  our  com- 
ing, and  bidding  the  manager,  the  Colonel,  and  the  ladies 
good  night,  Mr.  Collom  and  I  hie  away  to  the  ferry  and 
across  the  bay,  nor  stop  until  we  are  seated  in  Mrs. 
Chambers'  cozy  dining  room,  appeasing  our  appetites 
while  recounting  the  incidents  of  the  day.  After  dinner 
Willie  took  his  mother,  Mrs.  Shaw,  and  myself  out  to 
give  us  a  view  of  the  city  lights  from  "Park  Heights." 
A  ride  on  the  cable  cars  and  several  changes  brought 
us  in  about  forty  minutes  to  the  "Heights." 


112  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

From  this  high  eminence  we  look  down  on  a  sight  of 
unusual  novelty  and  grandeur.  Spread  out  far  beneath 
us  is  almost  the  entire  city  of  San  Francisco,  but  the 
buildings  are  not  visible,  not  one,  only  the  millions  of 
bright,  star-like  lights  that  enable  you  to  trace  the  streets 
and  mark  the  squares,  and  that  twinkle  and  gleam  from 
beneath  like  unto  the  gems  that  beam  down  upon  you 
from  above.  We  look  up,  through  a  cloudless  atmos- 
phere, and  behold  a  firmament  filled  with  brilliant,  glit- 
tering gems ;  we  look  down,  and  see  what  almost  seems  a 
reflection  of  what  we  see  above.  Man,  we  know,  is  the 
author  of  all  this  grandeur  that  we  see  beneath,  but  as  to 
the  Author  of  that  magnificence  far  above  we  can  but 
speculate. 

Willie  sees  we  are  growing  serious  and  says  we  need 
a  change,  so  he  leads  us  around  to  the  entrance  that 
admits  to  the  scenic  railway,  chutes,  haunted  swing,  and 
skating  rink,  where  for  an  hour  we  have  a  world  of 
fun;  so  pleased  are  the  ladies  with  the  toboggan  and 
the  chutes  that  it  is  with  difficulty  we  get  them  started 
home.  We  have  had  another  full  day,  and  when  at 
eleven  o'clock  I  find  myself  in  bed,  I  discover  that  I 
am  very  tired.  After  the  excitement  and  exertions  of 
the  day  are  over,  when  the  tension  and  strain  of  over- 
taxed nerves  and  muscles  relax  and  reaction  comes, 
then  you  understand  in  its  fullest  measure  the  meaning 
of  the  expression,  "I'm  tired." 

SUNDAY,  MAY  23d. 

Feeling  that  we  need  rest,  and  finding  the  full  en- 
joyment of  our  need  in  the  pleasant  home  of  Mrs.  Cham- 
bers, we  do  not  go  out  to-day  until  it  is  time  to  leave 


JOHN    H.    REAGAN,    OF  THE   COMMITTEE. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  113 

for  the  ferry,  from  which  the  boat  will  bear  us  to  Oak- 
land and  to  our  train,  which  is  scheduled  to  leave  this 
evening  at  seven  o'clock.  Willie's  engagements  had 
called  him  from  home  in  the  early  morning.  Mrs. 
Chambers,  Miss  Effie,  and  Mr.  Collom  accompany  Mrs. 
Shaw  and  myself  to  Oakland  and  take  dinner  with  us 
in  the  "Lafayette";  they  are  warm  in  their  praises  of 
the  comfort  and  luxury  of  our  train  and  our  enjoyable 
manner  of  traveling. 

The  hour  of  departure  is  drawing  near  and  the  many 
friends  we  have  made  are  gathered  around  to  see  us 
off.  Mrs.  T.  E.  Gaither,  a  former  Pennsylvanian,  now 
a  resident  of  Oakland,  presents  each  one  of  the  tourists 
with  a  bouquet  of  fine  roses  gathered  from  her  splen- 
did, spacious  lawn  of  ever-blooming  sweetness.  The 
inevitable  "All  aboard"  is  shouted,  the  last  hand  shake 
is  given,  and  our  train  leaves  behind  another  garden 
spot  of  grandeur. 

So  far  as  present  indications  point,  our  people  have 
all  made  good  use  of  their  time  and  thoroughly  enjoyed 
themselves.  The  kind  brothers,  of  Golden  Gate  and 
El  Capitan  Divisions  and  the  many  good  people  of 
Oakland  and  San  Francisco  who  contributed  so  much 
toward  our  pleasure  are  at  the  present  time  subjects 
of  the  warmest  praise  and  most  flattering  comments,  as 
incidents  connected  with  our  visit  are  being  talked  over 
and  discussed.  I  hear  Brother  Springer  telling  in  a 
pleasing  and  animated  manner  of  a  visit  he  and  some 
others  made  to  the  palatial  residence  and  grounds  of 
Lucius  Booth,  Esq.  "Mr.  Booth  gave  us,"  says  Brother 
Springer,  "the  freedom  of  his  magnificent  lawn  and 
park,  that  were  beautified  and  adorned  with  all  kinds, 


114  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

varieties,  and  colors  of  plants,  fruits,  and  flowers.  We 
were  shown  by  Mr.  Booth  what  he  told  us  is  the  great- 
est curiosity  to  be  found,  located  in  his  park,  two  strong 
natural  springs,  only  eighteen  inches  apart;  the  flow 
of  water  from  each  is  about  equal.  From  one  spring 
gurgles  a  stream  of  sulphur  water,  pungent  to  the  smell 
and  taste,  with  no  indications  of  iron  in  its  composition, 
while  from  the  other  flows  a  stream  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  iron,  but  with  no  sign  of  a  particle  of  sul- 
phur in  its  ingredients.  It  is  a  puzzle  to  the  scientific 
world,  and  naturalists  pronounce  it  a  'marvelous  freak 
of  nature/  " 

I  hear  many  of  our  people  speak  in  the  highest  terms 
of  Brother  R.  L.  Myers,  secretary  and  treasurer  of 
Golden  Gate  Division  364,  who  devoted  himself  so  faith- 
fully and  earnestly  to  the  interests  of  our  party.  Brothers 
Maxwell,  Reagan,  Waddington,  and  a  number  of  others 
also  speak  in  glowing  terms  of  the  courtesy  shown  them 
by  members  of  the  Board  of  Trade. 

We  leave  Oakland  at  7.40  Pacific  time  (10.40  Eastern), 
attached  to  a  five-car  train  called  the  "Portland  Flyer," 
which  makes  the  trip  from  Oakland  to  Portland  every  five 
days.  Engine  1793,  in  charge  of  Engineer  J.  Edwards, 
is  drawing  the  train,  which  is  conducted  by  D.  H.  Mc- 
Intire;  the  brakemen  are  W.  J.  Mitchell  and  H.  B.  Stew- 
art. A  ride  of  26  miles  brings  us  to  Port  Costa,  where 
the  engine  and  ten  cars  are  run  on  to  the  ferryboat 
"Salina"  and  transported  across  the  strait  of  Carquicons 
to  the  old  town  of  Benicia,  at  one  time  the  capital  of 
California. 

The  "Salina"  is  the  largest  ferryboat  ever  constructed, 
being  424  feet  long,  116  feet  wide,  and  18  feet  deep;  its 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  115 

capacity  is  forty-four  cars  and  an  engine,  regardless  of 
size  or  weight.  So  smoothly  does  the  "Salina"  run  that 
there  is  not  a  tremor,  jar,  or  motion  to  tell  you  she  is 
moving.  Engine  1793  will  run  us  to  Davis,  a  distance 
of  77  miles. 

It  has  grown  dark,  a  matter  we  always  regret,  for  we 
never  get  tired  watching  the  fleeting,  ever-varying  land- 
scape. With  prospects  of  mountains  for  to-morrow,  we 
seek  our  little  bed. 

MONDAY,   MAY   24th. 

Arose  early  this  morning  while  it  was  hardly  yet  light, 
not  wishing  to  miss  any  of  the  grand  scenery  that  I  know 
we  must  be  nearing.  Very  few  of  our  people  are  up, 
and  making  my  way  to  the  smoker  I  find  the  conductor 
who  is  running  the  train.  He  is  a  newcomer,  an 
entire  stranger,  but  I  find  him  a  very  agreeable  gentle- 
man. "Where  are  we,  captain?"  I  inquire.  "Well,"  he 
answers  pleasantly,  "you  are  on  the  famous  Shasta  Route 
of  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad,  bound  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, Cal.,  to  Portland,  Ore.,  a  distance  of  772  miles. 
You  have  traveled  about  200  miles  in  your  sleep.  We 
left  Red  Bluff  a  short  time  ago  and  are  now  approaching 
Redding,  260  miles  from  San  Francisco  and  over  500 
from  Portland."  "Where  did  you  take  charge  of  our 
train,  please,  and  what  is  the  number  of  your  engine  and 
the  names  of  your  crew?"  I  ask;  "I'm  trying  to  keep  a 
little  record  of  things  as  we  go  along,"  I  add  by  way  of 
explanation,  as  he  looks  askance  at  me.  "I  took  your 
train  at  Red  Bluff;  have  engine  1769,  Engineer  J.  Clark. 
I  can't  tell  you  the  fireman's  name;  my  name  is  G.  E. 


Il6  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

Morgan,  and  my  brakemen  are  J.  Cook  and  J.  Duncan. 
We  take  you  to  Ashland,  a  run  of  206  miles.  It  will  be 
necessary  for  us  to  get  a  helper  engine  shortly,  for  we 
have  uphill  work  through  here." 

"What  stream  of  water  is  this,  captain?"  I  ask,  as  I 
look  out  of  the  window  and  see  a  large  surging,  gurg- 
ling, dashing  stream  of  water  that  seems  to  be  rushing 
past  at  a  mile  a  minute  gait.  "That  is  the  Sacramento 
River,  a  stream  whose  course  you  ascend  for  307  miles 
and  cross  eighteen  times  between  Sacramento  and  Sis- 
son,"  he  answers,  rising  and  leaving  the  car  as  the  train 
slows  up  and  stops  at  a  station. 

I  follow,  get  off,  and  look  around.  On  the  right  the 
leaping,  tumultuous  waters  of  the  Sacramento  throw 
spray  in  your  face  as  you  stand  and  watch  them  churning 
and  foaming  in  resistless  might  as  they  sweep  madly  on- 
ward toward  the  bay;  on  the  left  is  the  station  and  town 
of  Redding.  Several  of  our  people  are  up  and  out  on 
the  ground.  We  can  see  that  the  town  is  a  thriving 
business-looking  place,  and  the  station  is  a  neat,  sub- 
stantial building.  Our  engine  is  taking  water  and  the 
men  are  loading  the  tender  with  wood.  "Why  do  you 
burn  wood  instead  of  coal  in  your  engines?"  I  ask 
Conductor  Morgan,  who  is  standing  near.  "For  the 
sake  of  economy,  I  suppose,"  he  replies.  "Wood  is 
plenty  and  cheap,  while  coal  is  very  scarce  and  expen- 
sive." 

As  we  continue  on  our  way  I  am  reminded  of  Con- 
ductor Morgan's  assertion  that  "wood  is  plenty,"  for  we 
see  thousands  of  cords  piled  up  along  the  railroad  track 
ready  for  use  or  awaiting  shipment,  and  all  the  hills  and 
slopes  and  mountain  sides  within  our  range  of  vision  are 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  117 

covered  with  immense  forests  of  pine  and  spruce.     It  is 
wild,  picturesque  mountain  scenery  and  we  all  enjoy  it. 

Our  train  stops  again,  and  looking  out  we  see  a  name 
above  the  little  station  door  that  makes  us  think  of  home. 
It  is  the  beloved,  familiar  Chester  county  name  of  Ken- 
net.  We  notice  that  it  is  spelled  with  only  one  "t,"  but 
it  is  "Kennett,"  all  the  same.  Stepping  off,  I  see  them 
attaching  a  helper  engine  and  get  its  number,  1902. 

As  we  start  again  I  step  on  board,  and  entering  the 
smoker  encounter  Brakeman  Cook.  "I  suppose  we 
have  some  climbing  to  do,"  I  remark;  "I  see  you've  got 
an  extra  engine."  "Yes,"  he  responds,  "from  here  to 
Sisson  is  61  miles,  and  in  that  distance  we  make  an  ascent 
of  2884  feet,  at  one  point  having  a  grade  of  168  feet  to 
the  mile."  Passing  Castle  Crag  we  see  in  the  distance 
its  bald,  bare  bluffs  and  peaks  of  rugged,  towering 
granite,  and  nestling  in  the  shadow  of  the  ridge  can  be 
seen  its  picturesque  hotel,  a  resort  where  those  needing 
mountain  air  for  health,  or  mountain  solitude  for  repose 
or  pleasure,  can  find  a  safe,  secure  retreat. 

From  this  point  we  catch  our  first  glimpse  of  grand 
Mt.  Shasta,  60  miles  away.  We  stop  at  Dunsmuir 
twenty  minutes  for  our  engines  to  renew  their  supply 
of  wood  and  water,  and  several  passengers  from  the 
"Portland  Flyer,"  taking  advantage  of  the  delay,  went 
into  a  nearby  hotel  and  got  lunch.  A  boy  on  the  station 
platform  with  a  large  four-pound  trout  that  he  had  just 
caught,  and  which  was  still  flapping  its  tail,  attracts  the 
attention  of  Brothers  Sloane  and  Haas,  who  want  the 
train  held  four  hours  while  they  go  fishing,  but  the 
proposition  is  voted  down.  A  beautiful  large  lawn 
slopes  from  the  Dunsmuir  Hotel  to  the  railroad,  on  which 


Il8  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

tame  mountain  deer  are  browsing.  Three  miles  from 
Dunsmuir  we  reach  Mossbrae  Falls  and  Shasta  Soda 
Springs.  Our  train  stops,  and  with  cups,  mugs,  jugs, 
bottles,  buckets,  and  pitchers  we  make  a  break  for  the 
fountain.  There  is  plenty  of  water  there,  and  oh,  how 
cold  and  sparkling  and  invigorating  it  is !  We  drink  our 
fill  and  fill  our  vessels  and  load  the  train,  but  it  would 
not  be  missed  had  we  taken  ten  thousand  times  as  much. 
A  roofed  and  stone-walled  well  that  is  inexhaustible  is 
fed  by  hundreds  of  little  streams  and  rivulets  and  jets 
that  flow  and  spurt  from  the  moss-covered  mountain  side, 
while  here  and  there  a  spring  more  powerful  than  the 
rest  sends  its  slender  column  full  fifty  feet  in  the  air  and 
then  descends  in  a  shower  of  mist  around  you. 

Where  is  the  artist  that  can  picture  the  beauty  of  Moss- 
brae  Falls,  a  mighty  mountain  side  covered  to  its  summit 
with  giant  pines,  terminating  at  its  base  in  a  sheer 
wall  a  hundred  feet  in  height,  its  face  covered  and  fes- 
tooned with  bright  green  moss,  through  which  descends 
in  a  silvery  sheen  of  spray  the  outpour  from  a  thousand 
gushing  springs?  From  here  to  Sisson,  a  distance  of 
25  miles,  our  engines  have  trying  uphill  work.  There 
are  mountains  everywhere,  mountains  ahead  of  us  and 
mountains  behind  us,  mountains  above  us  and  mount- 
ains below  us,  mountains  to  the  right  and  mountains  to 
the  left,  but  they  are  not  the  bald,  bare,  treeless  kind,  for 
everywhere  you  look,  except  when  you  cast  your  eye  to 
Shasta's  crown,  you  will  see  a  magnificent  growth  of 
pines  and  cedars,  shrubbery  and  ferns.  You  have  always 
to  look  up  or  else  look  down.  Looking  up  you  can 
scarcely  ever  see  the  pine-clad  summits,  for  your  eye 
rests  on  the  top  of  the  car  window  before  it  reaches  half 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IIQ 

way  up  the  mountain  side;  looking  down  you  are  all 
right,  if  you  don't  get  dizzy,  for  in  many  places  you  can 
look  down  upon  the  tops  of  the  tallest  trees  a  thousand 
feet  below. 

With  breath  of  flame  and  lungs  of  iron  those  powerful 
iron  steeds  puff  and  cough  and  climb,  and  the  long  ten- 
car  train,  following  their  laborious  lead,  winds  and 
worms  in  and  out  and  around  those  narrow  paths,  traced 
and  hewn  in  the  mighty  Sierra  Nevada's  rugged  sides 
by  persistent  resistless  Progress,  ever  guided,  ever  urged 
by  the  indomitable  will,  restless  perseverance,  mechan- 
ical ingenuity,  and  scientific  skill  of  man.  We  climb 
and  climb  and  worm  and  wind  until  Sisson's  heights  are 
reached,  at  an  elevation  of  3555  feet,  and  then  we  rest 
awhile — rest  to  feast  our  eyes  on  Shasta's  indescribable 
majesty  and  grandeur. 

This  is  the  nearest  point  the  railroad  runs  to  that 
gigantic  mound,  and  it  is  twelve  miles  on  an  air  line 
from  where  we  sit  and  stand  to  the  glistening,  snow- 
crowned  crest  of  that  mighty  monarch.  Why  we  should 
so  sensibly  feel  his  presence  and  he  so  far  away  is  a 
conundrum  no  one  asks;  we  only  look  and  feel,  and 
silently  wonder  what  it  is  we  feel.  It  must  be  awe,  for 
that  which  is  great,  we  are  told,  inspires  awe,  and  Shasta 
is  very,  very  great.  Fourteen  thousand  four  hundred 
and  forty-two  feet  is  the  estimated  height  of  this  colossal 
giant  that  pokes  his  apex  in  the  sky.  Were  it  possible 
to  grade  him  down  or  slice  him  off  to  one-half  his  height 
he  would  make  a  plateau  75  miles  in  circumference  and 
25  miles  across;  but  it  is  time  to  go.  The  manager  says, 
"Git  on,"  and  bidding  adieu  to  Shasta  we  "git." 

One  mile  from  Sisson  Conductor  Morgan  points  to  a 


I2O  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

little  mountain  spring  that  wouldn't  slake  the  thirst  of  a 
nanny  goat,  and  says,  "There's  the  head  waters  of  the 
Sacramento  River,  which  is  307  miles  from  where  it 
empties  into  the  bay."  The  road  now  is  making  some 
wonderful  curves  and  bends  to  get  around  insurmount- 
able heights  and  across  unbridgeable  chasms.  We  have 
just  finished  a  run  of  about  eight  miles,  described  almost 
a  complete  S,  and  are  only  one  mile  and  a  half  from 
where  we  started.  At  Edgewood  helper  engine  No. 
1902  is  detached,  for  it  is  now  down  grade  to  Hornbrook, 
a  distance  of  40  miles,  with  a  drop  at  places  of  170  feet  to 
the  mile. 

At  Hornbrook  engine  No.  1907  was  attached  to  assist 
to  Siskiyou,  a  distance  of  24  miles,  with  an  ascent  of  190 
feet  to  the  mile.  As  we  approach  State  Line  we  cross 
the  old  Portland  stage  trail,  and  at  3.03  P.  M.  Eastern 
(12.03  Pacific)  time  we  cross  the  State  Line  and  enter 
Oregon,  having  traveled  1136  miles  through  the  State  of 
California.  We  pass  Gregory  Siding,  where  two  freight 
wrecks  had  recently  occurred.  The  wrecking  crew  are 
still  on  the  ground,  having  evidently  just  put  engine  No. 
1503  on  the  track,  for  it  is  standing  there  as  we  pass, 
covered  with  mud.  We  here  have  in  view  Pilot  Rock, 
a  great  bare  bluff  that  stands  out  and  alone  like  a  huge 
sentinel  guarding  the  gateway  of  the  valley,  and  famous 
in  the  early  history  of  this  locality  as  the  scene  of  stirring 
Indian  warfare.  Manager  and  Mrs.  Wyman  are  on  the 
engine  enjoying  an  unobstructed  view  of  this  marvelous 
mountain  ride.  We  have  just  had  our  last  look  at  Cali- 
fornia scenery,  for  rounding  a  bend  as  we  pass  Pilot 
Rock,  the  last  view  of  majestic  Shasta  bursts  upon  our 
vision,  reposing  in  sublime  and  solemn  grandeur  50 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  121 

miles  away.  Another  curve,  the  picture  fades,  the  cur- 
tain falls,  and  exit  California. 

Still  climbing  the  rugged  sides  of  Siskiyou,  and  draw- 
ing nearer  and  closer  to  its  summit,  our  train,  as  though 
despairing  of  ever  reaching  the  top,  plunges  suddenly 
into  its  rocky  ribs.  The  depths  of  despair  can  be  no 
darker  than  the  gloomy  obscurity  of  this  yawning  hole 
in  the  mountain  wall;  for  3700  feet  through  "Tunnel  13" 
our  train  pierces  the  heart  of  Siskiyou  before  emerging 
into  daylight  on  the  opposite  side.  Here  the  summit  of 
the  grade  is  reached  at  an  elevation  of  4130  feet.  Leav- 
ing engine  No.  1907  behind  we  now  commence  the 
descent  pf  the  northern  slope  of  the  Siskiyou  Mountain, 
amidst  scenery  of  beauty  and  grandeur.  Arriving  at 
Ashland  5.10  P.  M.  Eastern  (2.10  P.  M.  Pacific)  time,  a 
stop  of  twenty  minutes  is  given  and  a  change  of  engines 
is  made. 

Bidding  goodbye  to  Conductor  Morgan  and  his  crew, 
who  deserve  our  highest  praise  for  the  able  manner  in 
which  our  train  was  handled,  and  who  did  much  toward 
making  the  trip  interesting  by  the  useful  information 
imparted,  we  speed  on  our  way  again  with  engine  1361 
in  charge  of  C.  C.  Case  and  fired  by  Robert  McCuan; 
Conductor  Edward  Houston,  Baggagemaster  R.  W. 
Jameson,  Brakeman  H.  Ballard,  who  take  us  to  Port- 
land, 341  miles.  Leaving  Ashland,  we  pass  a  number  of 
gold  mines  in  operation  on  the  rugged  hillside,  and 
swing  around  into  Rogue  River  Valley,  a  rich  farming 
and  fruit-growing  district,  producing,  it  is  said,  some  of 
the  finest  fruits  grown  in  Oregon.  A  stop  of  a  few 
minutes  is  made  at  Grant's  Pass,  attaching  engine  No. 
1759  to  assist  up  the  hill  to  West  Fork,  47  miles. 


122  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

Twenty  minutes  is  allowed  at  Glendale  to  enable  the 
passengers  of  the  "Portland  Flyer"  and  the  crew  to  par- 
take of  lunch  at  "The  Hotel  Glendale/'  Soon  after 
leaving  Glendale  we  enter  a  wild  ravine,  inclosed  by 
towering  hills  covered  to  their  summits  with  great  pine 
timber.  "Mr.  Jameson/'  I  ask  of  the  baggagemaster, 
an  agreeable  old  gentleman,  "has  this  wild  spot  a 
name?"  "This  is  Cow  Creek  Canon;  the  stream  of 
water  you  see  is  Cow  Creek,  which  runs  the  entire  length 
of  the  canon,  35  miles,"  is  the  answer. 

The  farther  we  penetrate  this  narrow  gorge  the  more 
are  we  impressed  with  the  solitude  of  its  mighty  pine- 
clad  sides,  that  commence  at  the  creek  on  one  hand  and 
at  the  railroad  on  the  other  and  rise  upward  in  a  steep 
slope  for  over  2000  feet,  covered  to  the  very  crests  with 
giant  Oregon  pines.  We  arrive  at  the,  little  station  of 
West  Fork,  the  only  station  in  the  canon,  and  engine  No, 
1759  is  detached  and  sidetracked.  There  is  gold  hidden 
in  these  mighty  hils,  and  here  and  there  we  see  a  mine, 
the  principal  one,  the  Victoria,  being  located  near  West 
Fork.  Two  miles  north  of  this  point  we  are  shown 
where  occurred  in  1890  the  largest  landslide  ever  known 
in  the  history  of  railroads.  An  immense  section  of  the 
mountain  side  becoming  loosened,  slid  down  into  the 
bottom  of  the  canon,  burying  900  feet  of  the  railroad  to 
the  depth  of  100  feet,  and  damming  the  creek,  formed  a 
lake  60  feet  deep  and  one  mile  long.  The  buried  track 
was  abandoned  and  the  road  built  across  the  creek  along 
the  foot  of  the  opposite  sloping  wall  of  the  canon.  We 
can  plainly  see  the  great  mass  of  earth  and  rocks  and 
trees  that  cover  the  buried  track,  and  which  forms  a 
striking  instance  of  what  might  occur  at  any  time  to 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  123 

roads  that  run  through  such  mountain  canons.  It  is 
growing  dark  as  we  emerge  from  the  fastness  and  soU- 
tude  of  this  Oregon  wilderness,  but  can  easily  discern 
that  it  is  a  change  for  the  better,  for  we  enter  a  valley 
teeming  with  fields  of  waving  grain  and  orchards  of 
thrifty  trees.  We  stop  at  Roseburg  for  ten  minutes, 
where  another  change  of  engines  is  made,  and  when  we 
start  on  our  way  again  at  12.10  A.  M.  Eastern  (9.10  P.  M. 
Pacific)  time,  it  is  quite  dark. 

Leaving  Roseburg,  we  have  engine  No.  1355,  with 
Engineer  Montgomery  at  the  throttle.  Having  a  grade 
for  15  miles  between  Drains  and  Cottage  Grove,  we  get 
Engineer  Connelly,  with  engine  No.  1516,  as  helper. 
Conductor  Houston  and  his  crew  continue  with  us  to 
Portland. 

TUESDAY,    MAY    25th. 

Arrived  at  Portland  this  morning  at  8.00  Eastern 
(5.00  Pacific)  time,  and  after  breakfast  we  met  Morton 
Young,  Esq.,  of  Portland.  Mr.  Young  is  a  member  of 
Mt.  Hood  Division  No.  91,  O.  R.  C,  and  an  earnest 
and  enthusiastic  member  of  the  order,  though  not  in 
railway  service  at  the  present  time,  having  been  fortu- 
nate in  real  estate  speculation  and  able  now  to  retire 
from  active  business  cares.  Brother  Young  kindly 
escorts  a  number  of  our  party  over  the  East  Side  Elec- 
tric Railway  to  Oregon  City,  which  is  a  pleasant  ride 
of  14  miles.  We  climb  the  great  wooden  stairway  lead- 
ing up  to  the  bluffs  that  overlook  the  city  and  obtain 
a  magnificent  view  of  all  the  surrounding  country. 
Looking  down  upon  the  falls  of  the  Willamette  River, 
we  are  impressed  with  the  grandeur  of  this  Niagara 


124  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

of  the  Pacific.  Descending  from  this  alluring  point  of 
observation,  we  visit  the  great  electric  plant  located  at 
the  falls,  deriving  its  power  from  the  waters  of  the 
Willamette  and  supplying  Oregon  City,  Portland,  and 
all  the  outlying  districts,  with  light  and  power.  From 
the  windows  of  the  power  house  we  obtain  a  much 
nearer  view  of  the  falls.  The  Willamette  River  at  this 
point  is  about  half  a  mile  in  width  and  the  falls,  in  the 
form  of  a  semi-circle,  extend  from  shore  to  shore  with 
an  average  height  of  40  feet.  It  is  estimated  that  the 
horse-power  capacity  of  this  great  volume  of  leaping, 
dashing,  roaring  water  is  second  in  the  world  to  that 
of  Niagara.  The  great  power  house,  with  walls  of  solid 
concrete,  is  located  on  the  west  side  of  the  river,  just 
below  the  falls,  and  has  a  capacity  of  12,000  horse 
power.  It  is  owned  and  operated  by  the  Portland  Gen- 
eral Electric  Company,  a  corporation  organized  in  1892 
with  a  capital  of  $4,250,000. 

We  cannot  remain  long  in  one  place  and  are  unable 
to  give  this  interesting  city  the  attention  we  would  like, 
but  we  can  see  as  we  traverse  one  of  its  principal  thor- 
oughfares that  it  is  up  to  date  in  its  accommodations 
and  improvements.  We  pass  the  Electric  Hotel,  and 
from  its  appearance  we  are  sure  it  is  first  class  in  every 
respect,  and  had  we  the  opportunity  or  occasion  to  par- 
take of  its  hospitality  we  are  confident  we  would  be 
well  taken  care  of  by  the  proprietors  who  manage  the 
establishment,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  M.  Robinson.  We  visit 
the  fish  market  and  are  interested  in  the  salmon  just 
brought  in,  that  range  in  weight  from  five  to  fifty  pounds, 
the  streams  through  this  part  of  the  country  abounding 
with  this  species  of  fish.  The  ladies,  intent  on  pro- 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  125 

curing  souvenirs,  visit  a  number  of  the  stores  as  we  go 
along.  On  the  river  banks  are  located  numerous  mills 
and  factories.  Arriving  at  the  point  where  we  take  the 
electric  line  for  Portland  and  finding  a  car  waiting,  we 
get  aboard  and  start  again  on  the  delightful  14-mile 
trolley  ride.  Among  the  passengers  in  the  car  is  a  lady 
whose  pleasant  countenance  invites  confidence,  and 
Mrs.  Shaw  has  entered  into  conversation  with  her.  I 
am  busy  looking  off  across  the  country,  enjoying  the 
beauty  of  the  landscape,  and  have  given  their  talk  no 
attention.  Brother  Young  has  just  pointed  out  Clack- 
amas  Heights  and  is  now  trying  to  show  us  the  snow 
crown  of  Mt.  Hood,  but  his  Honor  is  so  mixed  up 
with  the  vapory  clouds  that  hang  around  the  horizon 
that  he  cannot  be  located.  A  nudge  from  Mrs.  S.  in- 
vites my  attention,  and  as  I  turn  she  introduces  her 
new-found  friend,  Mrs.  Robinson,  of  the  Electric  Hotel, 
Oregon  City.  Mrs.  Robinson  is  a  bright  conversa- 
tionalist and  entertained  us  with  some  facts  about  the 
city  and  its  surroundings. 

"Do  you  like  Oregon  City?"  some  one  asks.  "I  not 
only  like  it,"  answers  Mrs.  Robinson,  "but  I  am  proud 
of  it.  It  is  a  town  with  a  history.  The  site  of 
Oregon  City  was  first  located  in  the  year  1829  by 
Dr.  John  McLoughlin,  an  agent  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company,  who  established  a  trading  post  here.  It  was 
here  a  few  years  later  that  the  Methodists  built  the  first 
Protestant  church  erected  on  the  Pacific  slope.  The 
Oregon  Spectator,  the  first  newspaper  published  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  was  printed  here  in  1846  on  a  press 
brought  from  the  Sandwich  Islands.  We  have  a  cli- 
mate," she  continued,  "that  never  goes  to  extremes; 


126  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

we  seldom  have  freezing  weather,  and  snow,  if  it  comes, 
only  lasts  a  few  hours.  I  have  gathered  roses  in  my 
yard  on  Christmas,  for  very  rarely  the  cold  is  severe 
enough  to  destroy  our  flowers.  We  have  not  grown 
so  rapidly  as  some  of  the  younger  cities  of  the  North- 
west, but  we  have  all  the  natural  advantages  and  facil- 
ities to  insure  and  encourage  progress  and  development. 
We  have  excellent  graded  schools  that  are  well  attended, 
and  as  an  evidence  of  the  educational  importance  of 
our  city,  the  Willamette  Valley  Chautauqua  Association 
holds  its  annual  convention  or  assembly  at  Gladstone 
Park,  not  far  from  Oregon  City.  These  meetings  are 
largely  attended,  thousands  coming  from  all  parts  of  the 
Pacific  coast.  The  people  will  commence  to  gather  for 
these  meetings  next  week,  and  I  expect  we  will  have 
our  hands  full;  but  here's  where  I  get  off,"  and  rising 
as  the  car  stops  she  bids  us  goodday  and  steps  off. 

We  have  reached  Portland,  and  after  proceeding  a 
few  blocks  under  the  guidance  of  Brother  Young,  we 
leave  the  electric  road  and  board  a  cable  car  for  Port- 
land Heights,  a  high  eminence  overlooking  the  city 
and  commanding  a  magnificent  view  of  all  the  sur- 
rounding country  for  many  miles.  We  gaze  down  upon 
three  rivers,  the  "Columbia,  Willamette,  and  Clackamas, 
and  follow  with  our  eyes  their  sinuous  windings  as  their 
waters  gleam  and  glimmer  in  the  sun.  We  can  plainly 
see  the  hoary  crests,  of  Mt.  Adams  and  Saint  Helens, 
but  clouds  still  hovering  on  the  eastern  horizon  keep 
Mt.  Hood  hidden  from  our  sight.  With  the  perversity 
of  human  nature,  that  is  always  hankering  for  what  is  be- 
yond its  reach,  we  want  a  look  at  Mt.  Hood.  "We 
came  up  here  to  see  it,"  says  Mrs.  Dougherty,  "and  if 


J.    P.    O  BRIEN,    SUPERINTENDENT    RAIL    LINES,    OREGON 
RAILROAD   AND    NAVIGATION    COMPANY. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  127 

it's  only  a  wee  glimpse  I  want  it."  So  do  we  all,  and  we 
keep  our  gaze  riveted  on  the  spot  where  Brother  Young 
says  it  will  appear,  if  it  shows  at  all. 

"Mt.  Hood  is  70  miles  away,"  says  Brother  Young, 
"but  on  a  perfectly  clear  day  a  person  from  here  can  see 
it  very  plainly."  The  clouds  showing  no  inclination  to 
favor  us,  we  descend  from  the  Heights,  get  aboard  a  car, 
and  start  for  the  station,  where  we  arrive  about  1.30 
P.  M.,  and  find  the  most  of  our  people  gathered  there; 
they  also  have  spent  a  very  pleasant  morning  taking  in 
the  sights  of  Portland  and  gathering  souvenirs. 

Brothers  Maxwell  and  Reagan,  of  the  excursion  ex- 
ecutive committee,  have  not  been  idle,  but  calling  upon 
Superintendent  J.  P.  O'Brien,  of  the  Oregon  River  and 
Navigation  Company  Rail  Lines,  have  arranged  for  an 
excursion  this  afternoon  up  the  banks  of  the  Columbia 
River  to  Cascade  Locks  and  return. 

Getting  lunch  at  a  near-by  restaurant,  we  are  soon  all 
ready  for  the  start.  Our  three  sleepers  are  attached  to 
a  regular  train  that  leaves  at  2.45  P.  M.  "Are  all  our 
people  here?"  asks  Manager  Wyman,  surveying  the 
crowd.  "There  are  four  or  five  that  are  absent,  I  be- 
lieve," answers  Secretary  Maxwell,  as  he  nips  the  north- 
east corner  off  a  plug  of  tobacco.  "Sloane  ai\d  Haas  are 
not  here,  I  know,"  speaks  out  Brother  Terry,  "for  they 
went  out  with  a  boy  in  a  boat  to  watch  the  salmon  shoot 
the  falls  of  the  Willamette  and  haven't  got  back  yet." 
"Time's  up;  can't  wait;  all  aboard,"  shouts  the  con- 
ductor, and  away  we  go,  bound  for  a  trip  of  45  miles 
through  the  marvelous  and  unsurpassed  scenery  of  the 
Columbia  River.  Superintendent  O'Brien  is  with  us, 
his  private  car  being  attached  to  the  train.  Chief  Dis- 


128  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

patcher  E.  N.  Campbell,  C.  R.  Holcomb,  Esq.,  and 
Brother  M.  Young  also  accompany  the  party.  L.  J. 
Hicks,  photographer,  of  Portland,  is  along  in  his  profes- 
sional capacity;  we  are  also  accompanied  by  the  Port- 
land Hotel  orchestra,  comprised  of  the  following  gentle- 
men: G.  H.  Parsons,  J.  Seltenraick,  F.  Boyd,  William 
Livinston,  Prof.  E.  F.  Fleck,  who  render  admirable 
and  pleasing  music.  Many  are  the  expressions  of  de- 
light as  we  catch  fleeting  glimpses  of  the  wonderful 
scenery.  "You  will  have  a  better  view  on  the  return 
trip,"  advises  Mr.  O'Brien,  "for  we  will  then  run  slow 
and  make  an  occasional  stop."  Arriving  at  Cascade 
Locks,  we  are  given  twenty  minutes  to  visit  the  great 
locks  which  the  Government  is  about  completing,  at  a 
cost  of  nearly  $1,500,000,  to  enable  vessels  to  reach  the 
highest  navigable  point  of  this  most  remarkable  river. 

Time  is  up  to  start  on  our  return  trip,  and  reaching  the 
train  we  find  O.  R.  &  N.  engine  No.  73  coupled  to  the 
train,  with  Engineer  A.  Curtis  and  Fireman  Jo.  Wilson 
in  the  cab  and  Conductor  J.  A.  Allison  standing  near 
ready  to  move  off  as  soon  as  we  are  ready  to  go.  In  a 
minute  we  are  all  on,  and  the  train  goes  slowly  down  the 
great  Columbia,  whose  current,  always  rapid,  is  aug- 
mented and  increased  twofold  by  the  melting  snows  in 
the  mountains,  and  surges  past  in  an  angry,  turbid  tor- 
rent. From  the  rushing  waters  of  the  mighty  river  on 
one  side  we  look  up  on  the  other  side  to  the  towering 
cliffs  and  crags  and  peaks  that  rise  in  majesty  and 
grandeur  3000  feet  in  the  air,  their  summits  fringed  with 
pines  that  look  like  ferns  as  they  wave  against  the  sky, 
while  here  and  there,  from  out  those  walls  of  rock, 
mountain  streams  gush  forth,  and  falling  hundreds  of 


MT.    ADAMS,  WASHINGTON. 


MT.    ST.    HKLKNS.    FROM    PORTLAND. 


ON   A   PULLMAN    TRAIN.  129 

feet,  their  waters  descend  in  showers  of  rainbow-tinted 
spray. 

"Well,"  remarks  Mr.  O'Brien,  as  he  sees  we  are  almost 
speechless  with  rapture  and  delight,  "that's  something 
you  don't  see  in  Pennsylvania  or  Jersey  every  day  in  the 
year."  "No,"  I  respond,  "nor  anywhere  else  in  the 
world  on  any  day  of  the  year."  "I  really  believe  there 
is  no  scenery  in  the  whole  wide  world  more  intensely 
absorbing  than  your  Columbia  River  scenery,  Mr. 
O'Brien,"  says  Mrs.  Mattson,  and  the  Doctor,  standing 
near,  smiles  down  upon  her  his  approval.  "We  will  now 
turn  our  attention  to  something  more  practical  than 
towering  mountains  and  leaping  waterfalls,"  says  Mr. 
O'Brien,  as  the  train  comes  to  a  stop.  "We  will  show 
you  how  our  salmon  are  coaxed  out  of  the  water." 

Leading  the  way,  we  follow  him  down  the  river  bank 
to  its  edge  and  on  to  a  platform  or  wharf  extending 
for  several  feet  into  the  water,  where  a  large  wheel  is 
slowly  revolving  that  looks  something  like  the  side  wheel 
of  an  old-fashioned  ferryboat  or  the  large  overshot  water 
wheel  of  an  old-time  sawmill,  except  that  it  turns  back- 
ward, and  as  the  scoops  or  buckets  rise  out  of  the  water 
they  bring  the  fish  along,  should  any  of  them  be  so  un- 
fortunate as  to  get  caught.  When  the  scoop  rises  to  a 
certain  height  the  fish  slip  out  into  an  incline  trough  or 
chute  (something  like  the  "boys"  had  fun  with  at  Sutro's) 
and  are  dumped  into  a  bin  under  the  platform.  "We 
are  not  catching  many  at  the  present  time,"  says  the 
man  who  is  operating  the  trap,  "the  river  is  too  high  and 
muddy  and  the  fish  are  not  running  very  lively."  Open- 
ing a  trap  door,  he  allows  us  to  peer  down  into  the  bin, 
where  we  see  a  lot  of  fish  of  various  sizes.  He  kindly 


130  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

gave  us  several  for  our  dining  car,  an  act  we  all  highly 
appreciate. 

We  next  stop  at  Multnomah  Falls,  where  one  of  those 
mountain  streams  pouring  over  the  face  of  a  cliff  has  a 
sheer  descent  of  950  feet.  Here  the  party  is  arranged  in 
a  group  on  a  grassy  slope,  with  the  falls  as  background, 
and  photographed  by  Mr.  Hicks.  "Mr.  Hicks,  will  all 
those  beautiful  rainbows  we  see  there  show  in  the  pict- 
ures you  have  taken?"  asks  Mrs.  Matthews  of  the 
photographer.  "No,"  replies  Mr.  Hicks,  "that  is  be- 
yond our  art.  No  camera  will  picture  nor  can  artist 
paint  the  gorgeous  coloring  and  beautifully  blended 
tints  that  you  see  in  the  dashing  spray  of  Multnomah 
Falls."  "I  don't  know  about  that,"  answers  Brother 
Mart.  Houston,  who  is  always  of  a  practical  turn  of  mind. 
"I  believe  George  Cope,  of  Chester  County,  could  do  it, 
for  a  man  who  can  paint  the  pretty  spots  of  a  trout  or  all 
the  colors  of  autumnal  foliage  and  never  miss  a  tint  can 
come  pretty  close  to  Multnomah  Falls."  "He  ought  to 
come  out  here  and  paint  it,  then,"  responds  Brother  Bob 
Foulon;  "for  a  reproduction  of  Multnomah  Falls  on 
canvas  as  we  see  it  to-day  could  not  be  surpassed  by 
any  painting  in  the  world."  We  all  echo  Brother  Fou- 
lon's  sentiments,  and  feel  as  we  get  aboard  the  train  that 
it  has  been  our  privilege  to  look  upon  a  scene  of  un- 
equaled  loveliness  and  grandeur. 

We  again  stop  and  are  photographed  at  the  Pillar, 
an  enormous  column  of  rock  standing  alone  between 
the  river  and  the  railroad,  upon  the  summit  of  which 
is  growing  a  great  pine  tree,  1000  feet  in  the  air.  We 
get  back  to  the  depot  about  7.30  and  find  McDonald 
has  a  sumptuous  dinner  awaiting  us,  which  we  all 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  13! 

heartily  enjoy.  Mr.  O'Brien  and  Brother  Young  take 
dinner  with  us,  and  our  people  show  their  appreciation 
of  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  these  gentlemen  by  giv- 
ing them  three  rousing  cheers.  After  supper  Manager 
E.  Lyons,  of  the  Union  Depot,  escorts  a  number  of  the 
"boys"  to  the  luxurious  quarters  of  the  Commercial 
Club,  where  we  are  royally  entertained  for  three  hours, 
returning  to  the  train  about  midnight. 

WEDNESDAY,  MAY  26th. 

Everybody  is  astir  in  good  time  this  morning,  for  we 
are  soon  to  bid  adieu  to  this  great  city  of  the  far  North- 
west, where  we  have  been  so  kindly  treated  and  royally 
entertained.  The  warmhearted  brothers  of  Mt.  Hood 
Division  No.  91,  O.  R.  C,  along  with  the  officers  of  the 
different  transportation  companies,  will  long  be  remem- 
bered for  their  generous  manner  toward  us.  "Views  of 
Portland,  Oregon,  and  the  Columbia  River,"  a  beau- 
tiful pamphlet  souvenir  issued  by  Mt.  Hood  Division, 
was  presented  to  each  member  of  our  party,  and  is 
highly  prized.  In  connection  with  the  pamphlet  is  "a 
ticket  of  welcome"  of  coupon  form,  and  is  quite  lengthy, 
but  all  right,  the  first  clause  of  which  reads,  "This  con- 
tract with  coupons  attached  entitles  the  holder  to  a 
hearty  welcome  and  a  first-class  reception  on  entering 
the  State  of  Oregon,  and  the  courtesies  of  the  Southern 
Pacific  Company,  the  Oregon  Railroad  and  Navigation 
Company,  and  the  Northern  Pacific  Railway. 
R.  KOEHLER,  E.  P.  ROGERS, 

General  Manager  S.  P.  A.  G.  P.  A.,  S.  P. 

E.  McNsiLL,  B.  CAMPBELL, 

Pres.  &  Mgr.  O.  R.  &  N.  Traffic  Mgr.  O.  R.  &  N. 

W.  H.  HULBURT,  J.  W.  KENDRICK, 

G.  P.  A.,  O.  R.  &  N.  Co.  Oenl.  Mgr.  N.  P.  Ry. 

J.  H.  HANNAFORD,  C.  S.  FEE, 

Genl.  Traffic  Mgr.  N.  P.  Ry.  G.  P.  A.,  N.  P.  Ry.  " 


132  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

There  are  five  clauses  in  the  contract.  The  last  clause 
reads,  "The  Reception  Committee  will  not  be  respon- 
sible for  the  loss  of  any  diamonds  (kings  and  queens 
excepted),  baggage,  meals,  or  sleep  on  this  run. 

J.  M.  POORMAN,  J.  W.  CROCKER, 

Sec.  &  Treas.  C.  C. 

"Mx.  HOOD  DIVISION  No.  91,  O.  R.  C." 

There  are  six  coupons,  each  reading  to  and  fro  over 
a  line  between  different  points  of  interest,  and  bearing 
at  the  bottom  the  name  of  the  superintendent  over 
whose  line  it  reads.  The  whole  is  a  nicely  gotten  up 
affair  and  a  valued  addition  to  our  collection  of  sou- 
venirs. 

We  leave  here  at  8.45  A.  M.,  and  the  hour  of  de- 
parture being  at  hand  (as  is  always  the  case),  a  number 
of  our  new-found  friends  are  at  hand  to  see  us  off.  All 
along  our  route  we  have  been  constantly  reminding 
the  people  who  we  are  by  a  yell  we  give  in  concert, 
with  a  vim  that  would  drown  the  racket  of  a  college 
football  team;  and  now,  gathered  in  a  bunch,  we 
let  go:— 

"Who  are  we?     O.  R.  C. 

"Pennsylvania  employe. 

"Rah!  rah!  boom— ah!" 

The  ladies  of  our  party  are  ready  and  let  go: — 

"Who  are  we?    Who  are  we? 

"The  wives  and  the  daughters  of  the  O.  R.  C. 

"Rah!  rah!  boom— ah!" 

And  now  the  cooks  and  waiters  gathered  at  the  win- 
dows and  on  the  platform  of  the  "Lafayette"  let  go: — 

"Who  are  we?     P.  P.  C. 


ON   A   PULLMAN    TRAIN.  133 

"The  cooks  and  the  waiters  of  the  O.  R.  C. 

"Rah!  rah!  boom— ah!" 

With  all  this  din  ringing  in  their  ears  the  good  people 
of  Portland  see  our  train  pulling  away  from  their  beau- 
tiful station.  As  they  wave  their  adieus  we  pass  from 
their  sight  on  a  run  of  146  miles  over  the  Northern 
Pacific  Railway  to  Tacoma,  Wash.  N.  P.  engine  No. 
617  is  drawing  us,  managed  by  Engineer  F.  W.  Bocker- 
man  and  fired  by  H.  Deam.  The  conductor  is  Henry 
Buckley  and  the  brakemen  are  H.  Harkins  and  Tom 
Martin;  Mr.  Martin  is  a  young  man  from  Chester 
County,  Pennsylvania,  who  has  come  West  to  seek  his 
fortune,  and  has  accepted  the  position  of  a  brakeman 
with  the  expectation  of  rising  in  the  ranks,  and  we  wish 
him  success. 

From  Portland  to  Goble,  39  miles,  we  follow  the 
Columbia  River,  which  is  very  high,  and  much  of  the 
low  land  is  submerged.  We  can  see  buildings  sur- 
rounded by  water  that  have  been  vacated,  and  we  are 
reminded  of  the  El  Paso  flood.  We  look  beyond  this 
desolating  waste  of  water  and  in  the  far  distance  can 
see  the  glistening  summits  of  Mt.  Hood  and  Saint 
Helens.  Reaching  Goble,  our  train  is  run  on  to  the 
great  ferry  steamer  "Tacoma,"  transported  across  the 
Columbia  River  to  Kalama,  and  into  the  State  of  Wash- 
ington. Leaving  Kalama,  we  pass  through  a  fine 
farming  country,  where  agricultural  industries  seem 
to  be  extensively  carried  on.  After  passing  Centralia, 
which  is  a  flourishing  town  of  about  3000  inhabitants, 
we  have  a  splendid  view  of  Mt.  Rainier  for  several  miles 
while  we  sweep  across  the  Yelm  prairie.  A  short  stop 
is  made  at  Roy  to  pick  up  Brothers  B.  W.  Johnson  and 


134  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

S.  H.  Ewalt,  of  Mt.  Tacoma  Division  No.  249,  O.  R.  C, 
who  are  members  of  committee  on  entertainment,  and 
who  promise  to  show  us  the  city  of  Tacoma  after  our 
arrival  there.  The  country  through  here  seems  to  be 
rich  in  natural  resources,  for  bordering  the  fertile  val- 
leys can  be  seen  heavily  timbered  hills  and  here  and 
there  a  coal  mine  in  operation. 

Arriving  in  Tacoma  at  4.40  P.  M.  Eastern  (1.40  P.  M. 
Pacific),  we  are  immediately  taken  out  by  Brothers 
Johnson  and  Ewalt  to  see  the  town  and  are  joined  by 
A.  F.  Haines,  passenger  agent  of  Northern  Pacific  Rail- 
way, Capt.  A.  Thompson,  of  the  Portland  Oregonian, 
C.  P.  Ferry,  Esq.  (who  bears  the  distinguished -title  of 
"Duke  of  Tacoma"),  and  a  member  of  the  Chamber  of 
Commerce,  L.  Ceasar,  Esq.,  president  of  Tacoma  Bank 
and  a  member  of  the  Board  of  Trade.  The  first  place 
we  visit  is  the  County  Court  House.  "This,"  says  Mr. 
Ferry,  "is  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in  Tacoma,  which, 
you  know,  is  the  county  seat  of  Pierce  County.  We 
had  to  have  a  court  house  and  thought  we  would  build 
a  good  one;  it  cost  $400,000."  We  amused  ourselves 
looking  through  the  museum  located  in  this  building, 
many  of  the  relics  and  works  of  art  having  been  con- 
tributed by  Mr.  Ferry,  who  collected  many  of  them  in 
foreign  countries  through  which  he  has  traveled.  We 
spent  half  an  hour  in  the  Court  House  and  then  en- 
tered into  a  street  car,  which  took  us  a  much-enjoyed 
ride  through  the  city  to  Point  Defiance  Park. 

To  form  a  true  conception  of  a  Washington  forest  one 
has  but  to  visit  this  wonderful  park.  Such  majestic  trees 
we  never  saw  before,  many  of  them  six  and  eight  feet  in 
diameter  and  estimated  to  be  300  feet  in  height,  great 


C  STREET,  TACOMA,  WASHINGTON. 


-';-.. 


BRIDGE,    I'OINT    DEFIANCE    PARK,   TACOMA,  WASHINGTON. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  135 

pines  and  cedars,  natural  growth  of  the  soil,  and 
amongst  them,  growing  in  wild  profusion,  great  ferns  six 
feet  in  height.  In  inclosures  can  be  seen  deer,  elk,  and 
bear,  natives  of  the  wilds.  Through  this  great  forest 
park  bridle  paths  lead  in  all  directions,  and  about  80 
miles  of  bicycle  track  is  built.  The  park  is  situated  on  a 
high  eminence  overlooking  Puget  Sound.  By  a  series 
of  steep  paths  and  stairs  we  descend  to  the  beach.  The 
sound  is  a  great  body  of  water  with  hardly  a  ripple  on 
its  surface.  A  half  hour  is  spent  here  gathering  pebbles 
and  shells,  and  then  we  head  for  the  smelter,  half  a  mile 
up  the  beach. 

A  boathouse  furnishes  rowboats  for  those  who  want 
them,  and  a  number  avail  themselves  of  this  opportunity 
to  avoid  a  tiresome  walk.  Those  who  walk  ascend  again 
the  steps  and  steep  pathway,  and  going  along  the  forest 
walk  they  arrive  at  the  smelter  the  same  time  as  those 
who  rowed.  We  are  taken  through  the  great  hot,  smoky 
building  and  shown  the  treatment  ore  receives  in  all  its 
stages  from  the  smelter  to  the  crucible.  This  immense 
plant,  owned  and  operated  by  the  Tacoma  Smelting  and 
Refining  Company,  handles  gold,  silver,  and  copper  ore, 
and  has  an  annual  output  of  over  $900,000.  A  train  of 
cars  await  us  when  we  emerge  from  the  works,  flat  cars, 
fitted  up  with  seats  for  the  occasion;  upon  these  we 
climb,  and  find  as  we  are  slowly  taken  along  the  sound 
front  that  no  conveyance  could  afford  a  better  view. 
Tacoma  has  12  miles  of  a  water  front,  upon  which 
splendid  wharves,  great  warehouses,  monster  elevators, 
immense  saw  and  flour  mills  are  built,  the  whole  12  miles 
being  lined  with  industries  of  this  character. 

This  trip  over,  we  return  to  our  train  and  find  dinner 


136  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

awaiting  us,  after  which  our  train  is  run  to  the  steamboat 
landing  and  we  are  taken  aboard  the  "City  of  Kingston," 
belonging  to  the  Northern  Pacific  Railway,  for  a  trip  of 
28  miles  to  Seattle,  We  can  hardly  realize  as  the  boat 
leaves  the  wharf  that  our  visit  to  Tacoma  is  over,  so 
rapidly  were  we  hustled  along;  but  we  are  highly  pleased 
with  the  treatment  we  received  and  feel  that  Tacoma  is 
a  wonderful  place  and  her  people  will  make  her  still  more 
wonderful  by  their  thrift,  their  push,  and  activity.  They 
have  our  best  wishes  for  their  future  progress  and  ad- 
vancement. 

The  "City  of  Kingston"  is  a  splendid  boat  and  rides 
like  a  feather  over  the  waters  of  the  sound,  and  from  the 
expressions  of  delight  on  every  hand  it  is  evident  our 
people  are  enjoying  the  trip.  The  boat  is  in  charge  of 
Engineer  G.  H.  Lent  and  a  gentlemanly  purser,  who 
have  won  the  goodwill  of  our  party  by  kindly  allowing 
us  the  freedom  of  the  boat  and  showing  us  through  many 
of  the  elegantly-furnished  state  rooms  with  which  the 
boat  is  equipped.  Arriving  at  Seattle,  we  are  loaded  in 
a  large  cable  car  and  taken  through  the  city  for  about 
four  miles  and  back  again.  It  is  so  dark  we  cannot  see 
the  town  and  can  only  enjoy  the  ride.  We  are  taken  to 
the  station,  where  we  wait  for  half  an  hour  for  our  train 
to  arrive,  which  has  been  sent  from  Tacoma  to  overtake 
us.  We  are  all  pretty  thoroughly  tired  out,  and  are  glad 
when  at  about  eleven  o'clock  our  train  arrives,  and  we 
are  soon  making  ourselves  comfortable  inside.  M.  M. 
Davis,  Esq.,  a  press  representative  of  Seattle,  and  Con- 
ductor Thomas  Doyle  in  search  of  an  "item"  gave  us  a 
short  call  just  after  our  train  came  over  from  Tacoma. 
Brother  Reagan  and  "Alfalfa"  are  the  only  ones  I  see  as 


LATOURELLE   FALLS,    OREGON. 


ON    A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  137 

I  leave  the  "refreshment  corner"  in  the  "combined"  to 
seek  repose  in  the  "Marco."  Our  train  is  still  standing 
at  Seattle  and  the  hour  is  close  to  midnight. 

THURSDAY,  MAY  27th. 

Getting  up  this  morning  about  7.30,  I  find  we  are 
crossing  another  desert — at  least  it  has  that  appearance. 
We  have  left  Ellensburg  and  are  running  through  a  dry, 
sandy  country  along  the  Yakima  River.  Here  and  there 
we  pass  a  ranch  where  plots  of  land  under  irrigation  are 
being  cultivated,  and  from  the  fertile  appearance  of  these 
irrigated  tracts  it  would  seem  that  this  country  needs  but 
plenty  of  water  to  make  it  a  blooming  paradise.  This 
much  I  discover  by  looking  out  the  window  while  wait- 
ing my  turn  to  wash  and  comb,  for  Brothers  Terry, 
Brown,  and  Horner  are  ahead  of  me  this  morning.  We 
work  on  the  principle  "first  come  first  served,"  and  all 
good  naturedly  wait  when  there  is  nothing  else  to  do. 
Completing  my  toilet,  I  go  to  the  smoker  and  find  the 
genial  conductor  who  is  running  the  train,  and  learn 
that  he  is  a  member  of  Mt.  Hood  Division  No.  91 ;  name, 
W.  B.  Hale. 

"I  took  charge  of  your  train  at  Ellensburg,"  he  says, 
on  being  asked  the  question,  ''and  am  going  with  you  as 
far  as  I  can.  We  have  engine  No.  333,  run  by  Engineer 
Brant,  who  will  take  us  to  Pasco,  122  miles."  "This  is  a 
barren-looking  country  for  stock  raising,"  I  remark,  as 
I  see  a  large  drove  of  cattle  kicking  up  the  dust  in  the 
desert  as  we  pass  them;  "what  do  they  live  on?"  "Those 
cattle  are  from  away  back  toward  the  hills,  where  there 
is  plenty  of  'bunch  grass'  that  they  feed  on,  and  are  com- 


138  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

ing  to  the  irrigation  canal  for  water,  or  perhaps  they  are 
being  driven  to  the  railroad  station  for  shipment.  You 
would  be  surprised  at  the  amount  of  stock  shipped  from 
North  Yakima,  Prosser,  and  Kennewick,"  is  the  reply. 
'There  seems  to  be  no  trouble  about  growing  plenty  of 
stuff  where  there  is  water,"  I  venture  to  assert,  seeing  a 
verdant-looking  plantation,  like  an  oasis  in  the  desert,  a 
short  distance  away.  "Lack  or  scarcity  of  water  is  the 
only  hindrance  to  agricultural  industry,"  is  the  answer, 
"and  this  drawback  is  being  rapidly  overcome  by  the 
construction  of  large  irrigating  canals  by  companies 
formed  for  that  purpose." 

"Breakfast  is  now  ready  in  the  dining  car,"  chimes 
the  welcome  voice  of  Conductor  McDonald  at  the  open 
door.  Several  of  our  people  had  entered  the  smoker 
during  the  last  half  hour,  and  all  arise  as  one  person  at 
the  music  of  that  well-known  voice,  that  always  brings 
"tidings  of  great  joy."  "I  think  Mr.  McDonald  has  the 
loveliest  voice,  for  a  man/'  is  the  flattering  remark  of 
Mrs.  Matthews  as  we  make  a  break  for  the  diner.  Not 
one  of  us  but  what  thinks  so  too,  but  of  course  we  know 
Mrs.  Matthews  is  thinking  of  the  song  McDonald  sang 
to  us  a  few  evenings  before. 

"There's  a  tramp  hidden  between  the  ice  chests  under 
this  car  beating  his  way,  I  heard  some  one  say  awhile 
ago,"  says  Manager  Wyman  at  the  breakfast  table.  As 
we  finish  eating  the  train  stops  at  the  little  station  of 
Kiona  and  we  all  get  out  to  see  the  stowaway.  Sure 
enough  he's  there.  In  a  narrow  space  between  the  ice 
chests,  about  16  inches  wide,  he  has  placed  a  board  on 
the  dining-car  ladder  which  is  kept  there,  and  crawled  in 
on  it,  a  place  so  narrow  that  he  cannot  change  his  posi- 


THE    HOBO    PASSENGER. 


CROSSING   COLUMBIA   RIVER   ON   THE    "  TACOMA." 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  139 

tion  or  turn.  We  can  see  him  all  covered  with  dust,  but 
he  does  not  move,  and  we  are  not  sure  that  he  is  alive, 
for  this  Yakima  dust  is  something  terrible  and  he  has 
certainly  got  a  dose  of  it.  One  of  the  dining-car  boys 
brought  him  out  some  bread  and  meat,  a  can  of  water, 
and  a  sponge  to  protect  his  mouth  and  nostrils  from  the 
dust.  We  can  see  that  he  is  alive  when  these  things  are 
pushed  into  him,  for  he  reaches  out  a  hand  as  far  as  he 
can  to  receive  them.  After  passing  Kennewick  we  cross 
the  Columbia  River  and  are  soon  at  Pasco,  where  a  stop 
is  made  to  change  engines.  While  this  is  being  done  we 
persuade  our  "mascot"  to  come  from  beneath  the  car. 
As  he  crawls  from  his  hiding  place  and  straightens  up 
Brother  Ristein,  who  has  his  kodak  ready,  takes  a  snap. 
We  can  see  through  the  ginger-colored  Yakima  dust  on 
his  face  that  he  is  a  negro.  "What's  your  name?"  I  ask. 
"John  Bell,  sah."  "Where  do  you  live?"  asks  Brother 
Matthews..  "Al'bama,  sah."  "Where  did  you  get  on  this 
car?"  asks  Manager  Wyman.  "Tacoma,  sah."  "How 
did  you  get  to  Tacoma?"  asks  Brother  Dougherty. 
"Cargo  hosses,  sah."  "Where  do  you  want  to  go,  now?" 
asks  Conductor  Hale.  "Montana,  sah."  "Well,  crawl 
in  your  hole ;  we're  going  to  start,"  replies  Captain  Hale, 
and  turning  to  Manager  Wyman  continues,  "We  may  as 
well  allow  him  to  keep  his  place,  for  soon  as  you  rout  him 
out  there  will  be  another  one  ready  to  crawl  in.  It's  im- 
possible to  get  through  this  part  of  the  country  without 
being  troubled  with  hoboes." 

We  leave  Pasco  at  12.55  Eastern  (9.45  Pacific)  time 
with  engine  No.  405,  Engineer  Tom  Allen  and  Fire- 
man W.  W.  Thompson,  who  run  us  to  Spokane,  146 
miles.  Much  of  the  country  through  which  we  are  now 


I4O  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

passing  is  very  dry  and  barren-looking,  but  we  are  in- 
formed by  Captain  Hale  that  it  is  considered  a  rich  graz- 
ing district.  From  Lind  to  Sprague,  a  distance  of  45 
miles,  many  large  herds  of  horses  and  cattle  are  seen. 
Just  before  reaching  Sprague  we  run  for  two  miles  on  the 
border  of  Spring  Lake,  a  fine  body  of  water  that  looks 
very  refreshing  after  so  many  miles  of  dry  and  dusty 
territory.  We  stop  at  Sprague  a  few  minutes  for  water 
and  notice  the  place  has  had  a  very  serious  fire  not  long 
since. 

"Captain,"  I  ask,  addressing  Brother  Hale,  who  is 
near  by,  "what  has  happened  to  Sprague?"  "The  town 
was  nearly  wiped  out  about  a  year  ago  by  a  very  bad 
fire,"  is  the  reply,  "and  it  is  a  great  pity,  for  Sprague  was 
a  pretty  little  place  and  a  thriving  town.  It  is  the  county 
seat  of  Lincoln  County,  and  had  a  population  of  about 
2000.  It  is  the  headquarters  of  the  Idaho  Division  of 
the  Northern  Pacific  Railway,  and  the  company's  ma- 
chine shops  and  roundhouse  were  completely  destroyed 
and  all  those  engines  ruined,"  and  he  points  to  where 
can  be  seen  about  a  dozen  locomotives,  burned  and 
warped,  standing  on  the  tracks  that  had  been  the  interior 
of  the  roundhouse  and  shops. 

Another  run  of  25  miles  through  good  farming  and 
grazing  territory,  interspersed  with  considerable  timber 
land,  brings  us  to  Cheney,  where  we  again  make  a  short 
stop.  Since  crossing  the  Columbia  our  course  has  been 
upward,  and  from  an  elevation  at  Kennewick  of  350  feet 
we  have  now  reached  2300  feet.  Cheney  is  a  growing 
business  place  of  1200  inhabitants.  It  is  nicely  located 
on  the  great  plateau  of  the  Columbia  and  surrounded 
for  many  miles  with  rich  farm  land  and  abundant  timber. 


KLEVATOR   A,  TACOMA,  WASHINGTON. 


SHORE    OF    LAKE    PEND   D'OREILLE   AT    HOPE,    IDAHO. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  I41 

Here  we  meet  Mr.  H.  W.  McMaster,  chief  dispatcher  of 
Northern  Pacific  Railway  at  Spokane,  whom  we  find  to 
be  a  very  courteous  and  agreeable  gentleman.  On  a  side- 
track near  where  our  train  stands,  Mr.  McMaster  shows 
us  the  largest  locomotive  on  the  Northern  Pacific  Rail- 
way, No.  150.  Engine  and  tender  without  fuel  or  water 
weigh  106  tons;  it  has  a  34-inch  cylinder;  was  built  in 
Schenectady,  N.  Y.,  since  the  first  of  the  year.  They 
have  had  it  but  a  short  time  but  find  it  very  satisfactory. 
It  is  in  charge  of  Engineer  J.  Bruce  and  is  run  in  the 
freight  service  between  Spokane  and  Pasco.  Mr.  Mc- 
Master accompanies  us  to  Spokane,  where  we  arrive  at 
5.20  P.  M.  Eastern  (2.20  P.  M.  Pacific),  and  are  met  at 
the  station  by  Dr.  E.  D.  Olmsted,  Mayor  of  Spokane. 
We  are  introduced  to  the  Mayor  by  Mr.  McMaster  in  a 
neat  little  speech.  His  Honor  responds  in  a  pleasant 
manner,  bidding  us  welcome  and  giving  us  the  freedom 
of  the  city.  The  street  railway  management  offers  us 
the  use  and  freedom  of  their  lines  so  long  as  we  wish  to 
remain  in  the  city.  We  have  but  two  hours  here,  and 
the  municipal  authorities  and  street  railway  managers 
vie  with  one  another  in  their  efforts  to  show  us  as  much 
of  the  city  as  possible  in  the  short  time  we  will  be  with 
them.  A  number  of  carriages  are  sent  around  and 
quickly  loaded  up,  accommodating  about  one-half  of  the 
party,  the  remainder  board  street  cars,  and  we  start  on  a 
tour  of  the  city. 

Spokane  is  the  county  seat  of  Spokane  County,  with  a 
population  of  about  32,000.  It  occupies  a  remarkably 
picturesque  location  on  both  sides  of  the  Spokane  River, 
a  mighty  mountain  torrent,  the  rush  and  roar  of  whose 
eternal,  resistless  energy  holds  the  visitors  to-day  spell- 


142  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

bound  and  speechless  with  admiration,  amazement,  and 
awe.  We  had  looked  upon,  we  supposed,  during  the 
past  two  weeks,  all  varieties  and  degrees  of  running, 
rushing,  and  falling  waters,  but  at  no  time  have  we  gazed 
upon  such  a  tumbling,  seething,  foaming,  roaring  torrent 
as  this  that  now  fascinates  us  with  its  sublime  grandeur 
and  astounds  us  with  its  terrific  force. 

Right  through  the  centre  of  the  city,  with  a  fall  of 
150  feet  in  the  space  of  half  a  mile,  this  mighty  torrent 
tears,  dashing  and  splashing,  surging  and  foaming 
against  and  amongst  the  great  rocks  and  boulders  that 
beset  its  course  with  a  fury  that  is  indescribable,  and 
we  feel  as  we  gaze  upon  this  wonderful,  awe-inspiring 
spectacle  that  there  is  no  more  limit  to  the  power  of  the 
elements  than  there  is  to  the  measure  of  eternity.  This 
magnificent  river  that  never  freezes  runs  the  great  elec- 
tric plant  that  lights  the  city  and  operates  45  miles  of 
electric  railway.  It  furnishes  power  for  numerous  flour 
and  saw  mills,  factories  and  foundries  that  can  be  seen 
in  operation  along  its  banks,  giving  an  aspect  of  busi- 
ness activity  to  the  place  that  is  a  pleasing  manifestation 
of  prosperity  and  enterprise. 

Its  fine,  substantial,  costly  church,  school,  municipal, 
and  other  public  buildings  and  superb  private  residences 
are  indications  that  there  is  wealth  in  Spokane.  Be- 
cause of  the  advantages  and  facilities  of  its  admirable 
location,  surrounded  by  vast  forests  of  valuable  timber, 
fertile  agricultural  valleys,  rich  mining  districts,  and  the 
traffic  of  seven  railroads,  we  predict  for  Spokane  a  phe- 
nomenal future.  It  is  destined,  we  are  sure,  at  an  early 
day  to  be  the  first  city  of  the  great  Northwest.  Not 
one  of  the  party  will  ever  forget  our  short  visit  to 


SPOKANE    FALLS,    SPOKANE. 


SPOKANE,  WASHINGTON. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  143 

Spokane.  Mr.  McMaster  took  Brothers  Maxwell  and 
Reagan  around  with  his  own  team  and  Captain  Hale 
took  Manager  Wyman.  The  street-car  party  was  under 
the  escort  of  James  Mendenhall,  Esq.,  an  old  school- 
mate of  Brother  James  Matthews.  Mr.  Mendenhall 
came  West  several  years  ago,  located  at  Spokane,  and 
engaged  in  real  estate  business.  He  is  now  one  of  the 
prominent  citizens  of  the  place  and  closely  identified 
with  the  business  interests  and  enterprises  of  the  city. 
We  also  met  Mark  Mendenhall,  Esq.,  a  brother  of 
James,  who  is  a  leading  attorney  in  Spokane.  No,  we 
will  not  forget  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  the  good 
people  of  Spokane,  and  the  good  people  of  Spokane 
will  not  forget  us,  for  they  have  only  to  remember  that 
on  the  afternoon  of  May  27th,  1897,  street-railway  traffic 
was  blocked  for  thirty  minutes  by  a  car  abandoned  by 
the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  conductors  and  kept  waiting 
for  them  while  they  viewed  the  grandeur  of  Spokane 
Falls  for  half  an  hour  from  the  rear  balcony  of  the 
brewery. 

At  7.40  P.  M.  Eastern  (4.40  P.  M.  Pacific)  time  we 
are  all  aboard  our  train  once  more,  and  with  Engineer 
Secord  at  the  throttle  of  engine  No.  119  we  quickly 
leave  beautiful  Spokane  far  in  our  rear.  Captain  Hale 
is  still  with  us,  his  brakeman  being  A.  S.  Harding.  A 
hobo  is  discovered  lying  on  the  truss  rods  of  the  com- 
bined car;  he  can  be  seen  by  looking  around  the  side 
of  the  car;  his  position  seems  a  perilous  one,  but  our 
train  makes  no  stop  till  it  gets  to  Hope,  84  miles,  so 
he  is  allowed  to  remain  and  take  his  chances.  For  sev- 
eral miles  we  pass  through  magnificent  cattle  ranges 
and  fine  farming  lands.  As  we  approach  Hope  the 


144  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

road  skirts  the  shores  of  Lake  Pend  d'Oreille  for  about 
three  miles,  giving  us  a  fine  view  of  this  beautiful  body 
of  water.  We  arrive  at  Hope  10.00  Eastern  (7.00 
Pacific)  time  and  stop  twenty-five  minutes  to  change  en- 
gines. Here  a  change  is  also  made  in  time;  it  changes 
from  Pacific  to  Mountain  time,  one  hour  later  than 
Pacific  and  two  hours  earlier  than  Eastern  time.  Hobo 
No.  2  changed  his  position  from  the  truss  rods  of  the 
combined  car  to  a  pile  of  ties  when  the  train  stopped 
at  Hope.  He  was  given  a  lunch  by  one  of  the  dining- 
car  boys  and  advised  not  to  anchor  himself  in  the  same 
place  again,  as  the  position  was  not  only  a  dangerous 
one,  but  very  conspicuous.  When  asked  his  name  he 
said  it  was  J.  W.  Kelsey,  that  he  was  trying  to  get 
home,  had  been  away  for  two  years,  and  wanted  to  see 
his  mother.  Hobo  No.  I  lays  low,  for  he  knows  should 
he  for  a  moment  vacate  his  narrow  quarters  under  the 
"Lafayette"  there  would  be  a  scramble  for  his  place. 
It  is  growing  dusk,  and  through  the  gloom  of  the  dying 
day  we  have  counted  no  less  than  fifteen  skulking  forms 
about  the  train,  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  secrete 
themselves  underneath  or  about  the  train  for  the  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  free  transportation. 

Bidding  adieu  to  big-hearted,  genial  Captain  Hale,  who 
has  been  with  us  for  357  miles,  we  leave  Hope  at  10.25 
P.  M.  Eastern  (8.25  P.  M.  Mountain)  time  with  N.  P. 
engine  No.  438,  with  Engineer  Jim  Bailey  at  the  throttle, 
whose  fireman  is  John  Ryan.  Conductor  William  Gil- 
bert has  charge  of  the  train  and  his  brakemen  are 
T.  S.  McEachran  and  F.  R.  Foote.  This  crew  runs 
us  to  Helena,  297  miles.  Ten  miles  from  Hope  we 
cross  Clark's  Fork,  a  branch  of  the  Columbia  River, 


W.    B.    HALE,    CONDUCTOR    NORTHERN   PACIFIC   RAILWAY. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  145 

and  through  the  gathering  darkness  we  can  see  that 
we  have  entered  a  wild  and  rocky  region,  the  road 
winding  around  and  among  mountain  ranges  and  snow- 
capped peaks,  following  the  course  of  the  stream  we 
just  crossed  for  60  miles. 

Captain  Gilbert  and  his  brakemen  are  lively,  interest- 
ing company,  and  entertain  us  during  the  evening  with 
anecdotes  and  stories  of  Western  life.  "Are  you  troubled 
much  with  tramps,  captain?"  some  one  asks,  as  Con- 
ductor Gilbert,  during  the  conversation,  made  some 
allusion  to  the  profession.  "They  do  not  give  us  much 
real  trouble,"  is  the  reply,  "yet  they  are  a  matter  of 
concern,  for  we  are  never  without  them,  and  need  to  be 
constantly  on  guard;  there  is  always  a  Wandering  Willie 
around  somewhere,  and  you  never  know  what  mischief 
he  may  be  up  to.  There  are  at  least  a  dozen  on  this 
train  to-night.  The  trucks  are  full  and  several  on  top 
of  the  cars."  This  is  rather  startling  information,  and 
I  notice  Brother  Sheppard  clap  his  hand  on  his  right 
hip  pocket  to  make  sure  the  "critter"  is  there,  and 
Alfalfa  quietly  unlocks  the  cupboard  door,  where  "our 
artillery"  is  kept.  I  see  no  sign  of  fear  on  the  serene 
countenance  of  Captain  Gilbert  and  believe  we're  not  in 
danger;  yet  Brothers  Maxwell  and  Terry  start  through 
the  train  to  make  sure  the  vestibule  doors  are  barred 
and  step  traps  fastened  down.  At  Trout  Creek,  a  small 
station  48  miles  from  Hope,  we  stopped  for  water,  and 
F.  Hartman,  roadmaster  of  the  Missoula  and  Hope 
Division,  got  aboard  and  went  with  us  to  Horse  Plains. 
It  is  now  near  midnight,  and  making  my  way  from  the 
smoker  to  the  "Marco"  I  turn  in,  wondering  how  the 
poor  fellows  who  are  hanging  on  to  the  brake  beams 


146  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

are  enjoying  themselves,  for  Bailey  with  the  "438"  is 
switching  them  around  the  curves  at  a  pretty  lively  rate. 

FRIDAY,  MAY  28th. 

Our  arrival  in  Helena  at  six  o'clock  this  morning  and 
the  announcement  of  an  early  breakfast  soon  has  every- 
body astir.  After  breakfast  we  bid  adieu  to  jolly,  whole- 
souled  Captain  Gilbert  and  his  genial  crew,  and  under 
the  escort  of  Assistant  General  Passenger  Agent  W. 
Stuart,  Assistant  General  Ticket  Agent  C.  E.  Button, 
and  Conductor  Dodds,  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railway, 
and  Messrs.  E.  Flaherty  and  H.  D.  Palmer,  of  Helena 
Board  of  Trade,  start  out  to  see  the  town.  Our  time  is 
limited,  for  we  are  scheduled  to  leave  at  twelve  o'clock, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  give  all  the  interesting  features  of 
this  remarkable  city  the  attention  they  deserve.  Helena 
is  a  wealthy  town ;  it  is  located  in  the  centre  of  one  of  the 
richest  mining  districts  in  the  world;  it  is  the  capital  of 
Montana  and  the  county  seat  of  Lewis  and  Clarke 
County,  with  a  population  of  about  14,000;  it  is  up  to 
date  in  its  financial,  educational,  and  religious  institu- 
tions, and  both  private  residences  and  public  buildings 
are  models  of  architectural  symmetry,  strength,  and 
beauty.  A  military  post  named  Fort  Harrison  has 
recently  been  established  here  which  will  be  one  of  the 
principal  points  for  the  quartering  of  troops  in  the 
Northwest.  A  ride  of  almost  three  miles  on  the  electric 
line  through  this  interesting  city  brings  us  to  the  Hotel 
Broadwater  and  "Natatorium,"  where  the  celebrated 
hot  springs  are  located.  We  are  given  the  freedom  of 
the  bathing  pool,  which  is  one  of  the  largest  and  finest 
under  cover  in  the  world.  The  most  of  our  party  take 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  147 

advantage  of  the  treat,  and  for  an  hour  the  waters  of  the 
pool  are  almost  churned  into  foam  by  the  sportive  antics 
of  the  crowd,  whose  capers  afford  great  entertainment 
and  amusement  for  those  who  do  not  care  to  "get  into 
the  swim"  with  the  rest.  This  place  is  much  resorted  to 
by  tourists,  and  invalids  are  said  to  be  much  benefited 
by  bathing  in  the  waters  of  these  hot  springs,  which  are 
strongly  impregnated  with  sulphur,  salt,  and  iron  and 
heated  by  Nature's  process  to  a  very  pleasant  tempera- 
ture. 

Leaving  the  Natatorium  we  are  invited  to  the  immense 
brewery  establishment  of  Nicholas  Kessler,  near  by,  to 
await  the  coming  of  our  train,  which  is  to  be  brought 
here  for  us,  as  the  railroad  runs  within  a  short  distance 
of  the  place.  Mr.  Kessler  is  a  former  Pennsylvanian, 
one  of  those  hospitable,  generous,  big-hearted  Pennsylva- 
nia Dutchmen,  and  when  he  learned  we  hailed  from  his 
native  State  his  pleasure  was  greater  than  he  was  able 
to  express  and  his  generosity  almost  boundless.  In  the 
fine  pavilion  adjoining  his  establishment  he  spread  us  a 
sumptuous  lunch  and  seemed  aggrieved  that  we  didn't 
eat  and  drink  all  that  was  placed  before  us,  which  was 
enough  for  500  people.  When  at  last  our  train  comes 
and  we  bid  the  old  gentleman  farewell  there  are  tears  in 
his  eyes  as  he  tells  us  how  happy  he  is  that  we  called  to 
see  him,  and  that  he  would  never  forget  the  Pennsylva- 
nia Railroad  conductors.  He  accompanies  us  over  to 
the  train  (so  do  several  of  his  men  with  boxes  on  their 
shoulders),  and  as  we  steam  away  and  leave  behind  us 
the  city  of  Helena  and  our  generous-hearted  new-made 
friends,  we  notice  in  the  "refreshment  corner"  of  our 
combined  car  a  pile  of  boxes  bearing  the  trade  mark  of 


148  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

"Nic"  Kessler,  and  another  box  containing  fine  oranges 
that  bears  the  mark  of  H.  S.  Hepner,  a  merchant  of 
Helena. 

The  space  between  the  ice  chests  beneath  the  dining 
car  is  vacant;  our  mascot  has  fled,  having  ridden  in  that 
uncomfortable  position  for  782  miles. 

It  is  12.55  P.  M.  Helena  time  when  we  leave  here  for 
Butte  over  the  Montana  Central  branch  of  the  Great 
Northern  Railway.  We  have  G.  N.  engine  No.  458, 
Engineer  Pete  Leary,  Fireman  R.  Hanna,  Conductor 
M.  Sweeney,  Brakemen  F.  W.  Minshall  and  F.  J.  Chap- 
man, who  take  us  to  Butte,  a  distance  of  75  miles.  As 
a  guest  we  have  with  us  Trainmaster  J.  W.  Donovan,  of 
the  Montana  Central,  who  will  accompany  us  to  Butte. 
We  find  Mr.  Donovan  an  agreeable  and  entertaining 
gentleman  who  tells  us  much  that  is  interesting  of  the 
country  through  which  we  are  passing.  "This  branch 
was  built,"  says  Mr.  Donovan,  "for  almost  the  sole  pur- 
pose of  developing  the  mining  interests  of  the  country. 
You  will  see  very  little  of  any  other  industry  from  here 
to  Butte  than  mining." 

After  leaving  Clancy  we  ascend  a  steep  grade,  from 
which  we  look  down  into  a  pretty  valley  that  Mr.  Dono- 
van tells  us  is  called  Prickly  Pear  Canon.  Passing 
Amazon  we  follow  Boulder  River  for  12  miles  as  it 
courses  through  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  same  name. 
Four  miles  from  Amazon  we  pass  through  Boulder  and 
can  see  that  it  is  a  thriving  town.  "Boulder  is  the 
county  seat  of  Jefferson  County,"  says  Mr.  Donovan, 
"and  has  a  population  of  about  1200.  It  ranks  as  one 
of  the  important  cities  of  Montana,  being  in  the  centre 
of  a  rich  mining  region." 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  149 

This  is  a  wonderful  mining  district  through  which  we 
are  passing,  all  the  hills  and  mountain  sides  being  liter- 
ally honeycombed  with  the  gaping  mouths  of  mines. 
Eight  miles  from  Boulder  we  come  to  the  town  of  Basin, 
"the  largest  city,"  says  Mr.  Donovan,  "in  Jefferson 
County,  having  a  population  of  about  200  more  than 
Boulder."  The  railroad  runs  close  to  the  ruins  of  what 
had  apparently  been  a  large  building  recently  destroyed 
by  fire,  and  we  inquire  of  Mr.  Donovan  what  it  had 
been.  "Two  years  ago,"  he  replies,  "the  Basin  and  Bay 
State  Smelting  Company  erected  an  immense  plant  that 
was  destroyed  by  fire  as  soon  as  it  was  in  operation.  To 
build  and  equip  the  plant  cost  over  $100,000,  and  its 
destruction  was  not  only  a  heavy  loss  but  a  serious  blow 
to  the  mining  industries  of  Basin  and  all  the  adjacent 
country;  but  I  hear  it  is  to  be  rebuilt  if  the  output  and 
value  of  the  ore  in  this  section  will  warrant  it." 

Our  progress  has  become  very  slow  and  engine  No. 
458  is  laboring  very  hard.  "We  are  now  ascending  a 
grade,"  says  Mr.  Donovan,  "of  116  feet  to  the  mile  and 
have  eight  miles  to  go  before  we  reach  the  summit." 
It  is  a  tedious  climb,  but  we  do  not  weary  of  viewing 
the  wondrous  mountain  scenery.  As  we  slowly  ap- 
proach the  top  of  the  grade  we  obtain  an  excellent  view 
of  Bison  River  Canon,  an  exceedingly  wild,  rugged, 
and  picturesque  region.  At  last  we  reach  the  summit 
at  an  altitude  of  6350  feet  above  sea  level;  this  is  the 
dividing  line  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  slopes. 
From  this  point  the  waters  flow  westward  to  the  Pacific 
and  eastward  to  the  Atlantic  Oceans.  I  look  at  my 
watch;  it  is  7.55  P.  M.  in  Philadelphia  and  5.55  here. 
We  now  make  better  time,  and  in  twenty  minutes  we 


I5O  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

arrive  in  Butte,  and  are  met  by  Brother  O.  L.  Chap- 
man, C.  C,  and  Brother  H.  C.  Grey,  secretary  and 
treasurer  of  Butte  Division  No.  294,  also  Brothers  J.  H. 
Dunn  and  A.  H.  Elliott,  of  same  division,  who  intro- 
duce us  to  Major  Dawson,  "the  man  who  knows  every- 
body in  Butte,"  and  to  Mr.  J.  R.  Wharton,  manager 
of  Butte  Street  Railway,  who  gives  us  the  freedom  of 
his  lines.  Our  people  are  escorted  by  the  kind  brothers 
who  met  us,  by  carriages  and  street  cars,  to  the  Butte 
Hotel,  where  refreshments  are  served,  after  which  we 
are  loaded  into  two  large  band  wagons  and  driven 
through  the  principal  streets  of  the  city.  Butte  is  a 
wonderful  city,  worth  a  trip  across  the  continent  to  see. 
It  is  strictly  a  mining  town  and  has  a  population  of 
over  38,000.  It  is  situated  near  the  headwaters  of 
Clark's  Fork  of  the  Columbia  River,  on  the  west  slope 
of  the  dividing  range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Butte 
is  the  county  seat  of  Silver  Bow  County,  a  county  mar- 
velously  rich  in  its  mineral  products,  the  aggregate 
value  of  its  gold,  silver,  and  copper  product  for  one 
year  reaching  the  enormous  sum  of  $9,060,917.59;  and 
yet  it  is  claimed  the  mining  industry  in  this  district  is 
still  in  its  infancy. 

Butte  is  a  city  of  fine,  substantial  buildings  that  are 
up  to  date  in  style  and  beauty  of  architecture,  and  yet 
it  is  a  bald  and  barren  town,  for  not  a  tree,  a  leaf,  a  bush, 
a  flower,  or  a  blade  of  grass  can  we  see  anywhere  within 
the  length  or  breadth  of  its  limits.  It  is  surrounded 
on  every  hand  by  smoking  smelters  and  grinning  mines, 
and  its  streets  are  filled  with  rugged,  stalwart  miners. 
The  eighrtour  system  of  labor  is  in  vogue  here,  and 
the  mines  and  smelters  run  day  and  night.  The  great 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  15! 

Anaconda  Mine,  owned  and  operated  by  the  Anaconda 
Company,  the  richest  mining  corporation  in  the  world, 
extends,  we  are  told,  under  the  very  centre  of  the  city 
of  Butte,  the  Butte  Hotel  standing  directly  over  it.  The 
pay  rolls  of  the  mining  industries  of  Butte  aggregate 
$1,500,000  yearly.  We  are  driven  out  to  the  Colorado 
Smelter,  and  on  the  way  pass  the  Centennial  Brewery, 
where  a  short  stop  is  made  to  obtain  some  souvenirs. 
We  are  shown  through  the  great  smelter,  and  when  we 
come  out  it  has  grown  quite  dark.  Our  drivers  are  old 
stagers  and  understand  handling  the  reins.  To  one 
wagon  are  attached  six  white  horses,  driven  by  W.  M. 
Mclntyre,  of  the  New  York  Life  Insurance  Company, 
and  to  the  other  wagon  are  four  bays,  driven  by  Hanks 
Monk,  a  well-known  character  of  the  West.  Hanks  is  an 
old  stage  driver,  and  claims  to  be  a  son  of  the  celebrated 
Hanks  Monk  of  Horace  Greeley  and  Mark  Twain  fame. 
Mr.  Monk  tells  us  that  he  is  a  Mormon,  and  a  deacon  in 
Salt  Lake  City  Church,  but  has  only  one  wife,  and  has 
found  one  to  be  plenty.  He  is  a  genial,  good-hearted 
fellow,  who,  notwithstanding  the  hardships  of  his  rugged 
life  of  fifty-seven  years,  looks  but  forty.  Hank  claims  he 
followed  the  trail  for  many  years  and  never  got  far  astray, 
but  he  will  have  to  acknowledge  that  he  got  off  the  trail 
once,  when  he  ran  the  wagon  load  of  Pennsylvania  Rail- 
road conductors  into  a  sand  bank  in  going  from  the  Colo- 
rado Smelter  to  the  station  in  Butte  on  the  night  of  May 
28th,  1897.  Hanks,  however,  redeemed  himself  by  the 
dexterous  and  graceful  manner  in  which  he  guided  those 
bewildered  horses  until  he  struck  the  proper  trail  again, 
and  brought  us  to  the  station  all  O.  K.  It  is  10  o'clock 
P.  M.  in  Butte  and  time  for  our  train  to  start.  We  bid 


152  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

our  kind  and  generous  friends  and  brothers  adieu  and 
get  aboard.  Engine  No.  305,  in  charge  of  Engineer 
J,  Else,  is  drawing  us,  and  Conductor  J.  A.  West  has 
charge  of  the  train;  C.  Dunham  is  our  brakeman. 
We  have  as  a  guest  on  the  train  Mr.  H.  E.  Dunn,  travel- 
ing agent  of  the  Oregon  Short  Line.  After  a  delay  of 
an  hour  at  Silver  Bow,  waiting  to  get  a  helper  engine 
to  assist  up  a  grade,  we  start  on  our  way  again  at  1.15 
A.  M.  Eastern  (11.15  P-  M.  Mountain)  time,  and  I  make 
my  way  to  my  berth  in  the  "Marco." 

SATURDAY,  MAY  29th. 

Was  awakened  this  morning  between  two  and  three 
o'clock  by  a  jar  that  almost  tumbled  me  out  of  bed; 
thought  at  first  our  train  had  left  the  track  and  had  run 
into  the  side  of  a  mountain;  I  lay  quiet  a  moment,  ex- 
pecting another  crash.  It  didn't  come,  and  I  realized 
our  train  was  standing  still.  "Guess  I  was  dreaming," 
I  said  to  myself,  as  I  reach  over,  raise  the  window  blind, 
and  look  out.  A  freight  train  is  moving  past  and  our 
train  is  motionless.  Mrs.  S.  is  awake,  and  my  move- 
ment informs  her  that  I  am  in  the  same  condition. 
"What  was  that?"  she  quietly  asks,  referring  to  the 
shock  that  awakened  us.  "I  don't  know,  my  dear,  but 
I'm  sure  it  was  something,"  I  reply,  satisfied  now  that 
it  wasn't  a  dream.  We  believe  the  danger  is  over;  that 
there  is  nothing  to  worry  about,  and  are  soon  asleep 
again. 

Arose  this  morning  about  the  usual  time  and  find 
we  have  just  left  Pocatello,  Idaho,  262  miles  from  Butte 
City.  We  have  come  through  much  interesting  country 


ON  A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  153 

while  asleep,  and  have  missed  seeing  the  beautiful  Idaho 
Falls.  The  shaking  up  we  received  last  night  was 
caused  by  Engineer  Oram  coupling  engine  No.  760  to 
our  train  at  Lima.  Oram  miscalculated  the  distance 
and  banged  into  our  train  with  more  force  than  he  in- 
tended. At  Pocatello  engine  No.  760  is  exchanged  for 
O.  S.  L.  engine  No.  735,  with  Engineer  J.  Andrews  and 
Fireman  Standrod  in  the  cab,  Conductor  G.  W.  Surman 
and  Brakeman  H.  Hewett,  who  run  us  to  Ogden,  134 
miles. 

Pocatello  is  located  in  Fort  Hall,  Indian  Reservation, 
and  while  passing  through  this  district  we  see  a  number 
of  the  natives.  Much  of  the  country  is  level  and  covered 
with  sage  brush  and  bunch  grass,  constituting  immense 
cattle  ranges,  with  here  and  there  a  plot  of  land  under 
cultivation,  watered  by  irrigation,  while  at  a  distance  on 
either  side  can  be  seen  great  ranges  of  snow-capped 
mountains.  We  are  reminded  of  Chester  County  and 
home  as  we  see  the  familiar  name  of  "Oxford"  above  a 
little  station  door  as  we  fly  past,  midway  between  Dayton 
and  Cannon.  We  cross  the  State  Line  and  enter  Utah. 
Coming  to  Cache  Junction,  we  are  in  view  of  Bear  River, 
that  feeds  the  great  irrigating  canal  constructed  by  the 
Bay  State  Canal  and  Irrigating  Company  at  a  cost  of 
$2,000,000.  This  canal  is  about  80  miles  long,  the  waters 
from  which  irrigate  many  thousand  acres  of  land;  it  is 
converting  this  dry  and  barren  desert  country  into  a 
land  of  fertility,  fruits,  and  flowers. 

As  we  approach  Ogden  this  great  improvement  is  very 
noticeable  in  the  beautiful,  productive  farms  and  home- 
steads that  are  seen  on  every  hand.  The  most  of  the 
settlers  through  this  locality,  we  are  told,  are  Mormons, 


154  NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

but  the  aspect  of  their  condition  and  surroundings  show 
them  to  be  a  thrifty,  industrious,  enterprising  people. 
We  arrive  in  Ogden  at  11.20  A.  M.,  where  a  stop  of  only 
twenty  minutes  is  allowed.  We  are  met  by  Conductor 
E.  S.  Croker,  C.  C.  of  Wasatch  Division  No.  124,  and 
J.  H.  McCoy,  of  same  division,  who  is  yardmaster  for 
the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  at  this  point.  Much  as  we 
desire  to  make  a  tour  of  this  interesting  city,  our  limited 
time  will  not  allow  it,  but  we  can  see  that  it  is  a  thriving 
business  place.  It  is  situated  on  the  western  slope  of  the 
Wasatch  Range,  at  an  elevation  of  4301  feet  above  sea 
level,  on  a  triangle  formed  by  the  Weber  and  Ogden 
Rivers,  which,  uniting  a  short  distance  west  of  the  city, 
flow  across  the  famous  historic  valley  and  empty  into  the 
Great  Salt  Lake. 

At  Ogden,  going  west,  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad 
time  changes  from  Mountain  to  Pacific  time.  At  1.40 
P.  M.  Eastern  (11.40  A.  M.  Mountain)  time  we  start  on 
our  way  again  with  R.  G.  W.  engine  No.  41,  in  charge 
of  Engineer  J.  Stewart,  Conductor  George  King,  and 
Brakeman  J.  Crompton.  From  Ogden  to  Salt  Lake 
City  we  are  in  continual  view  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and 
pass  a  number  of  evaporating  dams,  where  a  large 
amount  of  salt  is  procured  through  the  process  of  evap- 
oration. We  arrive  in  Salt  Lake  City  at  12.30  P.  M. 
Mountain  time,  and  leaving  the  train  we  are  again 
hustled  into  wagons  and  driven  over  the  city,  the  places 
of  interest  being  pointed  out  and  explained  by  the 
drivers.  Time  and  space  will  not  permit  me  to  note  and 
describe  all  the  interesting  features  of  this  historic  and 
truly  wonderful  city.  We  passed  through  the  famous 
Eagle  Gateway  and  halted  on  a  lofty  promontory  over- 


AN,       SALT    LAKE    CITY    RAILROAD   STATION,    UTAH. 


GRAVE   OF    BRIGHAM    YOUNG,    SALT    LAKE   CITY,    UTAH. 


ON  A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  155 

looking  Temple  Square,  where  we  had  a  grand  view  of 
the  magnificent  $10,000,000  Mormon  Temple.  Near 
the  Temple  is  the  Tabernacle,  an  immense,  singular- 
looking  affair,  with  a  roof  like  the  shell  of  a  huge  tortoise. 
We  are  shown  the  Lion  House  and  Beehive  House, 
former  residences  of  Brigham  Young  and  his  large 
family,  and  pass  the  grave  where  the  remains  of  the 
great  leader  lie.  It  is  a  plain,  ordinary-looking  mound, 
inclosed  with  a  common  iron  fence.  The  great  monu- 
ment erected  to  the  imperishable  fame  of  Brigham 
Young  is  this  beautiful,  remarkable  city  that  he  founded 
fifty  years  ago.  For  thirty  years  he  was  the  temporal 
and  religious  leader  of  his  people  here,  and  Salt  Lake 
City  was  almost  strictly  Mormon.  It  is  exclusive  no 
longer,  for  of  its  present  population  of  65,000  about  one- 
half,  we  are  told,  are  Gentiles  or  Christians.  "The  Chris- 
tian Science  faith  is  making  rapid  advances,"  says  our 
driver,  "and  many  Mormons  are  being  converted  to  that 
creed."  Brigham  Young  was  the  father  of  fifty-six  chil- 
dren; when  he  died  he  left  seventeen  widows,  sixteen 
sons,  and  twenty-eight  daughters  to  mourn  his  loss, 
many  of  whom  are  living  yet. 

We  are  driven  through  Liberty  Park,  where  is  still 
standing  the  first  flour  mill  built  in  Utah.  Returning  to 
the  train  we  get  dinner,  after  which  our  people  scatter 
through  the  city  to  see  the  sights  and  gather  more 
souvenirs.  We  are  all  impressed  with  the  beauty  and 
regularity  of  the  streets,  which  all  cross  at  right  angles, 
are  132  feet  wide,  including  the  sidewalks,  which  are  20 
feet  in  width,  bordered  with  beautiful  Lombardy  poplar 
and  locust  trees.  Along  each  side  of  the  street  flows  a 
clear,  cold  stream  of  water,  which,  with  the  beauty  of  the 


NINE  THOUSAND   MILES 

trees  and  the  sweet  fragrance  of  the  locust  blossoms, 
gives  to  the  city  an  all-pervading  air  of  coolness,  com- 
fort, and  repose  which  is  exceedingly  inviting  to  a  warm 
and  weary  tourist.  The  hour  grows  late  and  the  time 
arrives  to  return  to  our  train,  which  is  sidetracked  for 
occupancy  at  the  Rio  Grande  Western  depot.  Several 
of  our  party  gather  at  the  corner  of  Main  and  Second 
South  Street  to  await  the  coming  of  a  trolley  car  that 
will  convey  us  to  the  depot,  about  two  miles  away.  Ac- 
cording to  the  schedule  of  the  line  a  car  should  pass 
every  ten  minutes,  but  to-night  must  be  an  exception, 
for  it  is  forty-five  minutes  before  our  car  arrives,  and 
several  of  the  party  have  started  to  walk.  It  is  near 
midnight  when  we  reach  our  train  and  turn  in  for  the 
night. 

SUNDAY,  MAY  SOth. 

We  are  all  astir  bright  and  early  this  morning,  and 
after  breakfast,  through  the  courtesy  of  the  managers  of 
the  Saltair  and  Los  Angeles  Railway,  we  are  tendered  a 
trip  on  their  line  to  Saltair,  one  of  the  latest  attractions 
on  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  10  miles  from  the  city.  We 
leave  the  Rio  Grande  Western  depot  at  9.30  on  a  Saltair 
and  Los  Angeles  train  with  engine  No.  2,  Engineer 
A.  M.  Clayton,  Fireman  John  Little,  Conductor  Joseph 
Risley,  Brakeman  F.  T.  Bailey.  We  have  a  thirty 
minutes'  pleasant  ride  through  an  interesting  country. 
The  first  few  miles  we  pass  through  a  district  of  cozy 
homes,  surrounded  by  fertile  fields  and  gardens,  the  re- 
sult of  industry  and  irrigation;  then  come  great  level 
stretches  of  country,  utilized  as  grazing  ground,  upon 
which  can  be  seen  feeding  thousands  of  sheep.  As  we 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  1 57 

approach  the  "Great  Dead  Sea"  of  America  we  see  that 
gathering  salt  is  the  chief  industry,  and  we  pass  many 
basins  or  dams  where  hundreds  of  tons  of  this  useful 
commodity  are  procured  through  the  process  of  evap- 
oration. Arriving  at  our  destination  we  find  Saltair  is  a 
magnificent  mammoth  pavilion  built  on  the  waters  of 
Great  Salt  Lake,  4000  feet  from  shore.  A  track  resting 
upon  piles  connects  the  pavilion  with  the  mainland,  and 
over  this  our  train  is  run. 

Saltair  was  erected  in  1893  by  Salt  Lake  capitalists  at 
an  expense  of  $250,000.  It  is  of  Moorish  style  of  archi- 
tecture, 1115  feet  long,  335  feet  wide,  and  130  feet  high 
from  the  water  to  the  top  of  the  main  tower.  It  is  over 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  shore  and  rests  upon  2500  ten- 
inch  piling  or  posts  driven  firmly  into  the  bottom  of  the 
lake.  It  contains  620  bath  houses  or  dressing  rooms, 
and  connected  with  each  room  is  an  apartment  equipped 
with  a  fresh-water  shower  bath.  Visitors  who  wish  to 
drink  or  .lunch  or  lounge  will  find  at  their  disposal  a 
fine  apartment  151  by  153  feet,  furnished  with  con- 
venient tables  and  comfortable  chairs,  or  if  it  is  their 
desire  to  "trip  the  light  fantastic  toe,"  they  will  find  the 
ball  room  always  open,  a  fine  piano,  and  dancing  floor 
140  by  250  feet.  At  night  this  wonderful  place  is  lighted 
by  electricity,  there  being  1250  incandescent  and  40 
arc  lamps,  and  above  all,  in  the  centre  of  the  building, 
there  is  an  arc  light  of  2000  candle  power.  The  bathing 
season  has  not  opened  yet  and  the  water  is  said  to  be 
cold,  but  many  of  us  have  a  strong  desire  to  take  a 
plunge  in  this  remarkable  and  famous  lake.  The  tem- 
perature of  the  water  is  found  to  be  about  75  degrees, 
and  opinion  is  divided  as  to  whether  or  not  it  is  too 


158  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

cold.  Manager  Wyman  takes  off  his  shoes  and  stock- 
ings and  dabbles  in  the  water.  "It  is  not  cold,"  he  ex- 
claims, "and  I'm  going  in;"  and  procuring  a  bathing 
suit  he  is  soon  splashing  in  the  brine.  His  example  is 
rapidly  followed  by  others,  until  the  majority  of  our 
party,  both  men  and  women,  are  floating  and  flounder- 
ing around  in  water  so  salt  that  its  density  enables  one 
to  swim  and  float  with  ease,  but  you  are  helpless  when 
you  attempt  to  place  your  feet  upon  the  bottom;  the 
water  within  the  bathing  limits  averages  about  five  feet 
in  depth,  and  the  bottom  is  hard,  smooth,  and  sandy. 
"If  you  get  water  in  your  mouth  spit  it  out,  and  if  you 
get  it  in  your  eyes  don't  rub  them,"  is  the  advice  given 
us  by  the  bath  attendant.  If  you  get  this  water  in  your 
mouth  you  want  to  spit  it  out  right  away;  that  part  of 
the  caution  is  unnecessary,  for  it  is  the  worst  stuff  I 
ever  tasted.  If  you  get  it  in  your  eyes  you  will  want 
to  rub  them,  and  rub  them  hard,  but  don't  do  it,  and 
you  will  be  surprised  how  soon  the  intense  smarting  will 
cease. 

We  love  to  swim  and  dive  and  splash  and  sport  in  the 
water,  and  have  bathed  in  many  places,  but  in  a  brine 
like  this  never  before.  In  fact,  it  has  been  said  that 
nothing  like  it  can  be  found  anywhere  this  side  of  the 
Dead  Sea  of  Palestine.  We  remained  in  the  water  for 
an  hour  and  all  thoroughly  enjoyed  its  peculiar  qual- 
ities. Several  of  the  party  who  never  swam  before  did 
so  to-day,  but  it  was  because  they  couldn't  help  it,  and 
it  was  better  than  a  circus  to  see  them.  Not  one  of  us 
regret  or  will  ever  forget  out  trip  to  Saltair  and  our 
bath  in  Great  Salt  Lake.  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this 
great  inland  sea  occupies  an  altitude  4000  feet  higher 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  159 

than  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans.  It  is  93  miles 
long,  with  an  average  width  of  43  miles,  containing 
almost  4000  square  miles.  It  is  shallow  compared  with 
the  depth  of  other  large  bodies  of  water,  its  deepest 
places  measuring  but  60  feet.  A  number  of  islands 
rise  out  of  its  waters,  the  largest  being  Stansbury  and 
Antelope,  near  its  southern  shore.  It  is  between  these 
two  islands  that  beautiful,  destined-to-be-celebrated  Salt- 
air  is  located. 

Returning,  we  arrive  at  the  Rio  Grande  Western 
depot  about  12.30,  and  after  partaking  of  lunch  in  our 
dining  car  we  go  in  a  body  to  attend  services  in  the 
Mormon  Tabernacle.  They  were  looking  for  us,  for 
we  had  been  invited  to  come,  and  we  find  a  section  of 
vacant  seats  awaiting  us  near  the  centre  of  the  immense 
auditorium.  We  are  all  favorably  impressed  with  what 
we  see  and  hear,  the  Mormon  manner  of  worship  being 
not  unlike  that  of  any  other  church.  So  far  as  we  can 
discern,  the  speakers  make  no  effort  to  expound  any 
particular  or  peculiar  creed  or  doctrine,  but  preach 
charity,  love,  and  duty  to  one  another  and  obedience  to 
the  laws  of  God,  which  is  a  religion  good  enough  for 
the  entire  world.  An  attractive  feature  of  the  service 
is  the  singing,  the  choir  consisting  of  400  voices,  ac- 
companied by  the  music  of  what  is  claimed  to  be  one 
of  the  largest  church  organs  in  the  world,  and  led  by 
a  gentleman  highly  skilled  in  his  profession,  who  man- 
ages his  great  concourse  of  singers  with  remarkable 
accuracy  and  precision.  This  music  is  aided  and  en- 
hanced by  the  peculiar  and  marvelous  acoustic  properties 
of  the  building,  which  seems  to  convey  and  distribute 
sound  in  such  a  wonderful  manner  that  the  entire  edifice 


l6o  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

is  filled  with  the  grand  and  charming  melody.  We  are 
all  delighted  and  highly  appreciate  the  privilege  of  hav- 
ing been  allowed  to  visit  this,  one  of  the  noted  wonders 
of  this  famous  Mormon  city.  The  Tabernacle  is  an 
oddly-constructed  building,  250  feet  long,  150  feet  wide, 
and  80  feet  high,  covered  with  an  oval-shaped  roof  that, 
without  any  visible  support  except  where  it  rests  upon 
the  walls,  spans  the  vast  auditorium  beneath,  which  will 
seat  over  8000  people. 

The  place  was  well  filled  to-day,  and  we  are  told  that 
it  is  not  unusual  to  have  a  congregation  of  10,000 
within  the  inclosure  during  Sabbath  service.  There  are 
twenty  double  doors  nine  feet  in  width,  which  open  out- 
ward, like  the  great  doors  of  a  barn,  and  the  floor  being 
on  a  level  with  the  ground  outside,  the  vast  congre- 
gation is  enabled  to  make  its  exit  in  a  very  few  min- 
utes without  crowding  or  confusion. 

The  services  being  over,  we  soon  find  ourselves  out- 
side the  building,  but  still  within  the  inclosure  that  con- 
stitutes Temple  Square.  This  square  or  "block,"  con- 
taining about  ten  acres,  is  surrounded  by  a  wall  two 
feet  thick  and  fourteen  feet  high,  composed  of  adobe 
bricks  built  upon  a  foundation  of  stone.  Four  great 
gates,  one  on  each  side,  lead  into  the  inclosure,  which 
is  ornamented  with  fine  shade  trees  and  beautiful  flow- 
ers, and  contains  the  three  famous  buildings  of  the 
Mormons,  or  "Latter  Day  Saints,"  as  they  prefer  to  be 
called.  The  Tabernacle,  where  regular  service  is  held 
each  Sabbath,  is  the  only  edifice  to  which  the  public  is 
admitted.  Assembly  Hall,  a  large  granite  building  of 
unique  design,  erected  in  1880  at  a  cost  of  $90,000,  is 
used  exclusively  by  Church  officials  for  special  meet- 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  l6l 

ings  pertaining  to  the  business  of  the  Church.  The 
Temple,  a  grand  granite  structure,  the  building  and 
furnishing  of  which,  we  are  told,  has  cost  many  millions 
of  dollars,  is  as  a  sealed  book  to  the  outside  world.  Its 
interior  is  regarded  as  holy,  consecrated  ground,  that 
has  never  been  contaminated  by  an  "unbeliever's"  pres- 
ence. To  admit  a  Gentile  within  its  walls  would  be  a 
fearful  desecration.  We  cannot  get  inside,  and  gaze  in 
admiration  and  curiosity  upon  its  grand  and  massive 
walls,  wondering  what  mighty  mysteries  are  hidden 
W7ithin.  Near  the  Temple  that  he  designed  and  the  cor- 
ner stone  of  which  he  laid  stands  the  statue  of  Brigham 
Young. 

Leaving  the  grounds,  our  party  scatters,  some  re- 
turning to  the  train  and  others  strolling  around  the  city. 
The  sun  shines  very  hot,  but  it  is  cool  and  refreshing  in 
the  shade.  Mrs.  S.  and  myself  make  a  call  on  Mrs. 
Catharine  Palmer,  residing  on  State  Street,  a  sister  of 
Mr.  C.  K.  Dolby,  of  Delaware  County,  Pennsylvania,  an 
acquaintance  of  mine,  who  requested  me  to  call  on  his 
sister  had  I  the  opportunity  while  in  Salt  Lake  City. 
We  are  cordially  received  and  spend  a  pleasant  hour 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Palmer,  who  are  well  advanced  in 
years  and  very  comfortably  fixed.  Their  residence  is 
surrounded  by  great  maple  trees,  planted  by  Mr.  Palmer 
many  years  ago,  and  he  now  loves  to  sit  on  his  porch 
under  their  grateful  shade  and  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  well- 
spent  days  of  industry  and  toil. 

On  our  return  to  the  depot  I 'encounter  a  party  of  the 
"boys"  under  the  escort  of  Mr.  James  Devine,  chief  of 
Salt  Lake  City  fire  department,  an  acquaintance  of 
Brother  Leary's,  who  are  starting  on  a  little  tour  through 


l62  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

the  town.  I  join  them,  and  boarding  an  electric  car  we 
make  a  pleasant  trip  and  are  shown  many  places  of  in- 
terest. Mr.  Devine  is  an  excellent  guide  and  entertains 
us  with  a  number  of  anecdotes  and  stories  of  the  people 
and  their  customs.  "Who  is  the  present  head  of  the 
Mormon  Church,  Mr.  Devine?"  I  ask.  "An  old  gentle- 
man by  the  name  of  W.  Woodruff,"  replies  Mr.  Devine, 
"but  it  will  not  be  long,  I  think,  before  they  will  need 
another,  for  Mr.  Woodruff  is  past  ninety  years  of  age.  A 
short  time  ago,  in  commemoration  of  his  ninetieth  birth- 
day, a  family  reunion  was  held,  at  which  gathering  his 
children,  grandchildren,  and  greatgrandchildren  num- 
bered 90,  one  direct  descendant  for  each  year  of  his  life. 
The  old  man  is  quite  wealthy  and  owns  some  of  the  most 
fertile  land  in  the  State  of  Utah,  if  not  in  the  world.  I 
know  it  to  be  a  fact  that  an  experiment  was  made  last 
year  with  an  acre  of  his  land  to  determine  the  amount 
of  potatoes  that  can  be  raised  per  acre  under  favorable 
conditions,  and  that  acre  produced  the1  extraordinary 
yield  of  800  bushels.  A  like  experiment  in  producing 
wheat  resulted  in  the  unprecedented  yield  of  82  bushels." 
We  can  hardly  credit  this,  but  Mr.  Devine  declares  it  is 
true.  One  of  the  "boys"  has  been  holding  a  letter  in 
his  hand,  addressed  to  some  friend  in  the  East,  and  for 
some  time  has  been  waiting  for  a  chance  to  deposit  it  in 
a  letter  box  without  getting  left;  at  last  he  sees  a  chance, 
and  quickly  springing  from  the  car  when  it  stops  at  a 
corner  to  discharge  some  passengers,  he  tries  to  find  an 
opening  in  what  he  supposes  is  a  United  States  recep- 
tacle for  letters.  "Hold  on,  there,"  exclaims  Chief  De- 
vine,  "I  have  a  key  for  that  if  you  want  to  get  into  it." 
It  is  a  fire-alarm  box  into  which  our  brother  is  trying  to 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  163 

insert  his  epistle.  'Twenty-five  dollars  fine  for  tamper- 
ing with  a  fire  alarm  in  this  town,"  says  Brother  Max- 
well, as  the  abashed  victim  of  the  mistake  returns  to  the 
car.  "Yer-hef-ner  bizness  to  monkey  with  it,"  chided 
Brother  Schuler;  but  the  proper  place  is  soon  found  and 
the  letter  safely  mailed. 

We  called  on  Jacob  Moritz,  president  of  the  Utah 
Brewing  Company,  of  Salt  Lake  City,  who  showed  us 
over  his  immense  establishment  and  entertained  us  in  a 
very  generous  manner.  During  the  conversation,  Mr. 
Moritz,  while  speaking  about  the  decline  of  polygamy 
on  account  of  the  vigorous  enforcement  of  the  law  that 
forbids  a  plurality  of  wives,  recited  an  incident  that  came 
under  his  observation  a  short  time  since.  An  old  Mor- 
mon having  several  wives  fell  a  victim  to  the  stern 
mandate  of  the  law.  Being  under  indictment  for  a  crim- 
inal offense  results  in  disfranchisement,  but  the  old 
gentleman  did  not  know  he  could  not  vote.  Pending 
his  trial  an  election  occurred  and  the  old  man  went  to 
the  polls  to  cast  his  ballot,  but  was  sternly  challenged. 
He  was  dumfounded  at  first,  but  was  soon  made  to  un- 
derstand why  he  was  denied  the  privileges  of  citizenship. 
Raising  his  right  hand  toward  Heaven  he  exclaimed, 
"Gentlemen,  you  won't  allow  me  to  vote,  but,  thank  God, 
I  have  twenty-four  sons  who  can  vote."  "That's  a  family 
of  boys  to  be  proud  of,"  remarked  Brother  Leary.  "If 
they  were  illegally  procured,"  added  Brother  Reilly. 
Mr.  Moritz  offered  a  fine  cut-glass  goblet  to  the  one  who 
could  come  nearest  guessing  the  number  of  drams  it 
would  hold.  Brother  Waddington  got  closest  to  it  and 
carried  off  the  prize. 

Bidding  adieu  to  our  kind  host,  we  returned  to  our 


164  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

train  and  found  dinner  ready  in  the  dining  car.  Chief 
Devine  returned  and  took  dinner  with  us.  We  also  had 
with  us  as  a  guest  Mr.  Nymphas  C.  Murdock,  of  Charles- 
town,  Wasatch  County,  Utah.  Brother  Barrett  met  Mr. 
Murdock  at  the  Tabernacle  services  this  afternoon,  and 
becoming  interested  in  his  conversation  invited  him  to 
visit  our  train.  Mr.  Murdock  is  a  bishop  in  the  Mormon 
Church  and  an  intelligent  and  highly  entertaining  gen- 
tleman. Fifty  years  ago,  when  but  ten  years  of  age,  he 
came  with  his  parents,  who  were  followers  of  Brigham 
Young,  on  that  famous  journey  to  the  Great  Salt  Lake 
Valley.  He  has  been  identified  with  the  Church  since 
its  establishment  here,  and  was  the  first  settler  in  Charles- 
town,  which  is  located  about  35  miles  west  of  Salt  Lake 
City,  and  he  has  been  postmaster  there  for  31  years. 
Mr.  Murdock  made  no  effort  to  intrude  upon  us  any  of 
the  peculiar  doctrines  or  beliefs  of  his  Church,  but 
answered  all  our  questions  in  a  frank  and  pleasant  man- 
ner, giving  us  a  great  deal  of  useful  and  interesting  in- 
formation. "Tell  us  something  about  your  Temple,  Mr. 
Murdock,"  I  requested,  "and  why  you  consider  it  too 
holy  for  visitors  to  enter?"  "The  Temple  is  considered 
holy  because  it  has  been  consecrated  to  holy  creeds  and 
devoted  to  sacred  objects,"  answered  Mr.  Murdock  in  a 
solemn,  quiet  tone.  "The  spirits  of  the  dead  assemble  in 
the  Temple  to  commune  with  living  friends."  "If  that 
is  so  I  don't  blame  them  for  excluding  the  public,"  I 
said  to  myself,  "for  if  there  is  anything  that  will  make  a 
spirit  scoot  it  is  the  presence  of  an  unbeliever,"  but  I  re- 
mained perfectly  quiet,  for  I  felt  there  was  more  coming. 
"We  have  a  creed,"  continued  Mr.  Murdock,  "that  de- 
clares the  living  can  be  wedded  to  the  dead,  and  it  is  in 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  165 

the  Temple  that  this  most  sacred  of  all  ceremonies  is 
solemnized  and  performed."  "I  can't  see  how  it  is  pos- 
sible," I  quietly  remarked.  "I  will  explain,"  Mr.  Mur- 
dock  gently  said;  "to  the  'believer'  it  is  very  plain  and 
simple.  Suppose,  for  instance,  I  am  betrothed  to  a  wo- 
man who  sickens  and  dies  before  we  are  married;  if  she 
truly  loved  me  in  life  her  spirit  will  meet  me  at  the 
Temple  altar,  where  marriage  rites  will  be  performed  that 
will  unite  us  for  all  eternity."  I  really  think  Mr.  Mur- 
dock  is  a  good  and  honest  man  and  believes  what  he 
told  us,  but  to  us  the  whole  matter  seemed  like  an  in- 
teresting fairy  story — very  pretty,  but  outside  the  realm 
of  truth  and  reason.  There  were  some  pertinent  ques- 
tions in  my  mind  I  felt  like  asking,  but  did  not  wish  to 
injure  the  feelings  or  offend  a  kind  and  entertaining 
guest,  and  so  we  bid  him  good-bye  and  let  him  depart  in 
peace. 

A  number  of  our  people  went  over  to  Fort  Douglas 
this  afternoon  and  were  highly  pleased  with  the  trip. 
George  "Alfalfa"  was  along  and  met  an  old  chum  over 
there  in  the  person  of  William  Barnes.  William  was  a 
messenger  in  the  employ  of  Mayor  Fitler,  Philadelphia, 
when  George  and  he  were  buddies.  He  likes  army  life 
first  rate  and  George  says  he  is  a  good  soldier.  The 
troops  at  Fort  Douglas  are  all  colored,  commanded  by 
white  officers.  We  are  scheduled  to  leave  this  evening 
at  nine  o'clock,  and  it  is  drawing  near  the  time ;  our  train 
is  at  the  station  and  Manager  Wyman  has  ascertained 
that  our  people  are  all  "on  deck."  We  must  not  forget 
"Dan,"  the  pet  bear  at  the  Rio  Grande  Western  depot. 
He  was  captured  several  years  ago  when  a  cub  and  has 
been  confined  in  a  pen  near  the  station  ever  since.  He 


l66  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

is  a  fine  big  fellow  now,  and  has  been  faring  well  since 
our  visit,  for  no  one  of  our  party  thinks  of  passing  the 
pen  of  Dan  without  giving  him  some  sweetmeats,  of 
which  he  is  very  fond.  My  last  thoughts  are  of  Dan, 
for  finding  I  have  some  lumps  of  sugar  and  a  few  cakes 
in  my  pocket,  I  hasten  to  his  pen  and  give  them  to  him, 
and  return  just  in  time  to  get  aboard.  We  leave 
promptly  at  11.00  P.  M.  Eastern  (9.00  P.  M.  Mountain) 
time,  over  the  Rio  Grande  Western  Railway,  bound  for 
Grand  Junction,  with  the  same  engine  and  crew  that 
brought  us  from  Ogden  to  Salt  Lake  City.  As  a  guest 
we  have  with  us  Train  Supervisor  Frank  Selgrath,  who 
will  go  with  us  to  Grand  Junction.  At  Clear  Creek,  83 
miles  from  Salt  Lake  City,  we  get  a  ten-wheel  engine, 
No.  132,  to  help  us  up  a  six-mile  grade  with  a  rise  of 
200  feet  to  the  mile.  This  is  a  fine,  picturesque  country, 
we  are  told,  through  which  we  are  passing,  but  not  be-, 
ing  able  to  see  in  the  dark,  we  cannot  judge  of  its  beauty, 
and  finding  it  is  near  midnight  I  hie  away  to  my  little 
bed  and  am  soon  fast  asleep. 

MONDAY,  MAY  31st. 

Awakened  this  morning  about  six  o'clock  by  Mrs.  S. 
remarking,  "I  never  saw  the  beat!  Who  would  believe 
that  so  much  of  our  country  is  desert?"  I  thought  she 
was  talking  in  her  sleep,  but  turning  over  I  find  her  gaz- 
ing out  of  the  window  at  the  rapidly-fleeting  landscape. 
We  have  drifted  away  from  the  mountains  and  rocks  and 
are  crossing  a  level,  barren  plain.  For  miles  we  see  no 
sign  of  habitation  or  cultivation,  but  now  in  the  distance 
we  catch  sight  of  an  irrigating  canal,  with  here  and  there 
a  plot  of  land  under  cultivation  whose  fertility  and  verd- 


CHAS.    E.    HOOPER,  OF   THE   DENVER   AND    RIO   GRANDE    RAILROAD. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  167 

ure  break  the  hard  lines  of  the  desert  monotony.  We 
pass  a  station  and  upon  the  name  board  we  see  the  word 
"Fruita,"  a  singular  name,  we  think,  for  a  station;  but 
in  the  two  seconds'  glance  we  have  of  its  surroundings 
we  can  but  feel  that  it  inappropriate.  Irrigating  ditches, 
fertile  fields,  thrifty  orchards,  and  blooming  gardens  are 
all  seen  in  that  fleeting  glance,  and  we  are  more  than 
ever  impressed  with  the  fact  that  it  needs  but  water  to 
convert  these  desert  tracts  into  verdant  fields.  A  num- 
ber of  our  people  are  astir,  and  we  too  "turn  out."  We 
find  we  are  in  Colorado,  having  crossed  the  State  line  at 
Utaline,  a  little  station  35  miles  west  of  Grand  Junction, 
which  we  are  now  approaching,  and  where  we  arrive 
about  seven  o'clock.  We  halt  here  only  long  enough  to 
change  engines,  but  in  our  brief  stay  we  can  see  that 
Grand  Junction  is  quite  a  town.  It  has  a  population  of 
about  4000;  is  located  at  the  confluence  of  the  Gunnison 
and  Grand  Rivers,  with  an  elevation  of  4500  feet;  it  is 
quite  a  railway  centre,  being  the  terminus  of  both  the 
broad  and  narrow-gauge  lines  of  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande,  the  Rio  Grande  Western  and  the  Colorado  Mid- 
land Railways. 

At  9.08  A.  M.  Eastern  (7.08  A.  M.  Mountain)  time  we 
leave  Grand  Junction,  on  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Railroad,  with  engine  No.  522,  Engineer  "Cyclone" 
Thompson,  Fireman  Bert  Roberts,  Conductor  William 
M.  Newman,  Brakemen  J.  Grout  and  O.  McCullough. 
Conductor  Hugh  Long,  of  Salida  Division  No.  132,  and 
Charles  E.  Hooper,  advertising  agent  of  the  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  Railroad,  met  our  train  at  Grand  Junction, 
and  we  find  them  a  pleasing  and  entertaining  addition 
to  our  party.  They  present  us  with  descriptive  time 


l68  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

tables,  illustrated  pamphlets,  and  souvenir  itineraries  of 
our  trip  over  the  wonderful  scenic  route  of  the  Denver 
and  Rio  Grande  Railroad.  From  Grand  Junction  to  Glen- 
wood  Springs  we  follow  the  Grand  River  through  the 
Valley  of  the  Grand,  amid  grand  and  beautiful  scenery. 
As  we  approach  Glenwood  Springs  and  pass  the  little 
stations  of  Rifle  and  Antlers,  Brother  Sloane  grows  very 
enthusiastic,  for  this  is  a  noted  hunting  district,  with 

which  our  brother  is  familiar.     From  Newcastle  to  Glen- 

• 

wood  Springs,  a  distance  of  12  miles,  we  traverse  closely 
the  north  banks  of  the  Grand  River,  and  parallel  with 
the  tracks  of  the  Colorado  Midland  Railroad  on  the  op- 
posite side. 

Arriving  at  Glenwood  Springs  at  9.40  A.  M.,  we  go 
direct  from  the  train  to  the  springs  under  the  escort  of 
Mr.  Hooper,  who  has  made  arrangements  to  give  our 
party  free  access  to  the  bathing  establishment,  where  we 
are  very  courteously  received,  and  each  one  who  desires 
to  bathe  is  furnished  with  a  suit  and  a  dressing  room. 
Steps  lead  down  into  the  pool,  which  is  about  an  acre  in 
size  and  filled  with  wrarm,  sulphurous  water  to  the  depth 
of  four  to  five  feet.  The  hot  water,  at  a  temperature  of 
1 20  degrees,  gushes  into  the  pool  on  one  side  at  the  rate 
of  about  2000  gallons  per  minute,  and  on  the  opposite 
side  an  ice-cold  mountain  stream  pours  in  at  about  the 
same  rate,  keeping  the  water  at  a  pleasant  bathing  tem- 
perature. 

We  spent  an  hour  in  the  pool  and  enjoyed  it  mightily. 
How  much  fun  we  had  we  can  never  tell,  but  we  know 
we  had  fun,  and  other  people  knew  it,  too,  for  the  follow- 
ing item  appeared  in  to-day's  Avalanche,  an  afternoon 
Glenwood  Springs  paper: — 


BATHING   POOL  AT    GLENWOOD   SPRINGS,  COLORADO. 


IN   THE    POOL    AT    GLENWOOD   SPRINGS. 


ON  A  PULLMAN  TRAIN.  169 

"CONDUCTORS  IN  THE  POOL. 

"The  Pennsylvania  Railroad  conductors  who  arrived 
in  Glenwood  Springs  this  morning  from  the  West  had 
more  fun  in  the  pool  than  a  lot  of  wild  Indians.  Their 
shouts  of  mirth  and  their  laughter  could  be  hear  at 
Cardiff,  three  miles  south.  If  the  Indians  ever  had  as 
much  fun  in  that  pool  as  those  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
conductors,  then,  Wampam  woopham  longheir  spook- 
ham." 

We  all  feel  that  this  item  does  us  great  honor,  but  we 
are  puzzled  for  awhile  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
closing  expression,  until  one  of  our  par*y  who  had  made 
a  study  of  savage  classic  lore  interpreted  it  as  meaning, 
"Yankem,  spankem,  daredevil  blankem.  " 

After  leaving  the  pool,  another  hour  was  spent  in 
visiting  the  sulphur  springs  and  vapor  cave  and  in 
writing  and  mailing  letters.  The  latter  we  did  in  the 
beautiful  Hotel  Colorado,  which  is  located  near  the 
bathing  establishment  and  is  said'to  be  one  of  the  finest- 
equipped  hotels  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific.  The 
Grand  River  separates  the  baths  from  the  town,  and 
is  crossed  by  a  double-decker  bridge,  the  lower  deck 
for  vehicles,  the  upper  for  pedestrians.  We  recrossed 
the  bridge  and  after  a  short  wait  for  our  train  to  be 
brought  to  us  we  again  got  aboard,  and  at  3.00  P.  M. 
Eastern  (i.oo  P.  M.  Mountain)  time  left  Glenwood 
Springs  bound  for  Salida. 

For  1 6  miles  we  wind  through  the  canon  of  the  Grand 
River,  and  view  with  feelings  of  admiration  and  awe 
those  towering  walls  of  rock  of  such  peculiar  construc- 
tion and  varied  colors  that  we  wonder  what  remarkable 
process  of  Nature  could  have  ever  formed  them  thus. 


I7O  NINE    THOUSAND    MILES 

At  Gypsum,  25  miles  from  Glenwood  Springs,  Grand 
River  disappears  from  view  and  we  come  in  sight  of 
Eagle  River,  following  it  for  several  miles.  We  pass 
great  beds  of  lava  and  can  see,  away  in  the  distance, 
a  burned  and  blackened  course  where  the  lava  had 
flowed  down  a  chasm  in  the  mountain,  perhaps  thou- 
sands of  years  ago.  On  the  plateaus,  at  the  foot  of 
towering  cliffs,  are  numerous  little  farms  in  a  thrifty 
state  of  cultivation.  We  stop  at  Minturn  to  change  en- 
gines, and  bid  "Cyclone"  Thompson  and  his  trusty  fire- 
man, Bert  Roberts,  good-bye. 

We  leave  in  a  few  minutes  with  engine  No.  524. 
Engineer  Al.  Philliber  and  Fireman  Charley  Wilcox  are 
in  the  cab,  "Billy"  Newman  and  his  brakemen  remain 
with  us.  Conductor  Newman  is  a  member  of  Denver 
Division  No.  44  and  an  enthusiastic  lover  of  the  order. 
He  is  a  model  conductor  and  an  entertaining  com- 
panion. E.  A.  Thayer,  Esq.,  superintendent  of  hotel, 
dining,  and  restaurant  service,  is  our  guest  from  Glen- 
wood  Springs  to  Salida,  and  we  find  him  an  interesting 
gentleman.  Brother  Dougherty  has  found  an  old  friend 
in  Brother  Hugh  Long,  and  he  has  much  enjoyment  in 
his  company.  Charley  Hooper  is  everybody's  friend 
and  always  has  an  admiring,  interested  group  around 
him,  and  if  we  could  only  remember  all  that  Charley 
tells  us  we  could  write  an  intensely  interesting  volume. 
He  is  perfectly  familiar  with  all  of  this  wonderful 
country  and  is  an  exceedingly  interesting  companion. 

Soon  after  leaving  Minturn  we  enter  Eagle  River 
Canon,  whose  sloping,  pine-fringed  walls  rise  to  the 
height  of  over  2000  feet  on  either  side,  almost  shutting 
out  the  light  of  day.  A  heavy  shower  adds  to  the 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  1 71 

gloom,  but  does  not  detract  from  the  interest,  for  these 
mighty  mountain  sides  are  honeycombed  with  hundreds 
of  mines  and  dotted  with  the  cabins  of  the  miners.  It  is 
very  curious  and  wonderful  to  see  a  human  habitation 
hanging,  as  it  were,  a  thousand  feet  in  the  air,  on  the 
side  of  a  mountain,  where  it  would  seem  a  mountain 
goat  could  hardly  obtain  a  foothold;  yet  there  they  are, 
and  many  of  them — in  one  place  an  entire  village  of 
red  and  white  cottages,  so  very  high  up  that  they  look 
like  miniature  houses  or  dove  cots  suspended  in  the 
air.  The  products  of  the  mines  are  lowered  to  the  rail- 
road tracks  by  means  of  tramways  operated  by  endless 
chains  or  cables,  and  material  is  conveyed  to  the  lofty 
residents  by  the  same  novel  arrangement. 

For  four  miles  we  wind  up  through  this  marvelous 
mountain  ravine,  deeply  interested  in  the  wonderful 
sights  and  scenery  of  this  extraordinary  mining  indus- 
try. A  short  stop  is  made  at  Belden,  where  extensive 
gold  mines  are  in  operation,  but  so  high  up  on  the 
mountain  side  are  the  shafts  or  entrances  to  the  mines 
that  it  is  impossible  to  visit  them  in  the  limited  time 
we  have.  Since  leaving  Minturn  our  course  has  been 
gradually  upward,  and  we  have  Engineer  Amberson, 
with  helper  engine  No.  513,  to  assist  us  up  the  grade. 
Emerging  from  the  famous  and  never-to-be-forgotten 
Eagle  River  Canon,  we  shortly  come  to  the  mining 
town  of  Red  Cliff.  It  is  a  lively,  thrifty  place  of  about 
1000  inhabitants,  has  an  elevation  of  8671  feet,  and  is 
surrounded  by  grand  mountain  scenery.  From  this 
point  Mr.  Hooper  directs  our  attention  to  a  view  of  the 
Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross,  but  only  a  glimpse  is  ob- 
tained of  the  great  white  cross  and  then  it  is  lost  to 


1/2  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

view.  "Distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view,"  quotes 
Mr.  Thayer.  "Do  you  know,"  he  continues,  "were  it 
possible  to  transport  you  to  the  summit  of  yonder 
mount,  20  miles  away,  and  set  you  down,  you  would 
see  no  semblance  of  a  cross?  You  would  only  see 
rugged  rocks,  desolate  peaks,  and  snow-filled  ravines; 
you  would  look  in  vain  for  the  sublime  and  typical 
beauty  that  you  so  easily  discern  20  miles  or  more 
away.  You  would  see,  were  you  in  a  proper  location, 
the  conditions  and  materials  that  make  your  beautiful 
picture.  A  great  valley  or  ravine  extends  down  the 
mountain  side,  into  which  the  snows  of  many  Winters 
have  drifted.  This  is  one  of  Nature's  perpetual  ice 
houses,  whose  supply  never  becomes  exhausted.  Across 
the  face  of  the  mountain,  near  the  summit,  crossing 
this  ravine  at  right  angles,  is  another  great  depression 
or  fissure,  likewise  filled  with  perpetual  ice  and  snow. 
All  the  surroundings  are  rugged,  rough,  and  broken, 
and  you  would  never  think  of  looking  for  the  likeness 
of  a  cross  in  the  wild,  bleak  desolation  of  ice-bound, 
snow-filled  mountain  chasms.  Distance,  however,  oblit- 
erates the  rocks  and  roughness  and  smooths  the  rugged 
features  of  the  mountain  side,  and  the  great  white  cross 
of  snow  stands  out  in  bold  relief,  as  though  formed  of 
carved  and  polished  marble.  It  is  a  pretty  picture,  and 
one  that  the  imagination  and  sentiment  of  man  have 
almost  rendered  sacred." 

We  are  now  approaching  Tennessee  Pass,  and  our 
engines  are  working  hard  as  they  climb  the  steep  ascent. 
Our  progress  is  slow,  but  so  much  the  better,  as  it  gives 
us  an  opportunity  to  contemplate  and  enjoy  the  inde- 
scribable beauty  of  this  famous  mountain  scenery.  We 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  1/3 

reach  the  pass  shortly  after  four  o'clock,  at  an  altitude  of 
10,418  feet,  the  highest  point  on  the  main  line  of  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad.  Here  we  again  cross 
the  Great  Continental  Divide  and  enter  the  Atlantic  slope. 
Mr.  Hooper  calls  our  attention  to  a  tiny  stream  of  water 
flowing  near  the  track,  remarking  as  he  does  so,  "That  is 
the  headwaters  of  the  Arkansas  River.  We  follow  it  for 
a  number  of  miles  and  it  will  be  interesting  to  notice 
it  gradually  increasing  in  size  and  volume  as  we  pro- 
ceed." Our  course  is  slightly  downward  and  our  rate 
of  speed  increases.  We  soon  reach  Leadville,  where  we 
halt  for  half  an  hour.  The  time  is  insufficient  to  allow 
us  to  visit  the  town,  but  we  get  out  and  look  around.  A 
train  of  freight  cars  is  standing  on  a  sidetrack  a  short 
distance  away,  loaded  with  ore,  and  the  "boys"  are  told 
to  help  themselves.  A  number  avail  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  of  procuring  Leadville  "specimens"  for 
souvenirs.  The  pieces  carried  away,  I  imagine,  contain 
but  very  little  of  the  precious  metal,  for  I  believe,  judg- 
ing from  the  appearance,  that  the  "specimens"  are  being 
obtained  from  a  train  load  of  railroad  ballast.  I  tell 
Brothers  Sparks  and  Matthews  and  some  of  the  rest  my 
convictions,  but  they  call  me  a  "tenderfoot"  and  say  I 
"don't  know  a  good  thing  when  I  see  it."  Maybe  I 
don't,  but  I  have  a  chunk  of  that  stuff  in  my  pocket  that 
I  will  take  home  and  exhibit  to  my  friends  as  a  specimen 
of  Leadville  gold  quartz,  and  if  they  know  no  more  about 
the  material  than  I  do  they  will  believe  it.  If  it  is  but  a 
stone,  I  will  prize  it  as  a  souvenir  from  the  most  noted 
mining  camp  of  the  West. 

Leadville  first  became  famous  in  1859  as  the  richest 
gold-mining   camp    in    Colorado,    and   was    known   as 


NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 


"California  Gulch."  Five  million  dollars  in  gold  dust 
were  washed  from  the  ground  of  this  gulch  the  first  five 
years  after  its  discovery,  then  for  fourteen  years  it  lay 
almost  dormant,  until  in  1878  rich  deposits  of  silver  were 
discovered.  At  that  time  the  place  took  a  new  lease  of 
life,  was  renamed  Leadville,  and  has  been  a  booming 
city  ever  since.  It  now  has  a  population  of  15,000  in- 
habitants and  is  the  county  seat  of  Lake  County.  Lead- 
ville has  an  elevation  of  10,200  feet,  enjoying  the  highest 
altitude  of  any  city  of  its  size  in  North  America,  if  not 
in  the  world.  It  lies  amid  some  of  the  grandest  and 
most  magnificent  scenery  to  be  found  anywhere,  and  is 
surrounded  by  towering,  snow-capped  mountain  peaks, 
whose  glistening  summits  almost  pierce  the  sky.  We 
find  the  atmosphere  cool  and  bracing,  but  so  exceedingly 
rare  that  a  brisk  walk  or  short  run  will  make  you  pant 
for  breath.  I  found  this  out  when  I  ran  to  the  sidetrack 
for  a  piece  of  "ballast." 

Our  half  hour  is  up  and  Conductor  Newman  and  Man- 
ager Wyman  are  shouting  "All  aboard!"  We  scramble 
on,  and  at  7.40  P.  M.  Eastern  (5.40  P.  M.  Mountain) 
time  our  train  pulls  out  and  we  leave  in  our  rear  an  in- 
teresting, picturesque,  and  famous  town.  At  Malta,  five 
miles  from  Leadville,  we  lay  on  a  sidetrack  ten  minutes 
waiting  for  a  train  we  meet  at  this  point.  Leaving 
Malta,  we  pass  through  a  fertile  valley,  through  which 
flows  the  Arkansas  River,  that  we  notice  is  rapidly  grow- 
ing larger  and  more  turbulent.  We  are  still  running 
parallel  with  the  Colorado  Midland  Railroad,  which  for 
miles  is  within  fifty  feet  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande. 
We  notice  a  severe  storm  raging  on  a  mountain  not  far 
away,  and  it  seems  to  be  snowing  hard  at  the  summit. 


WALTER   \V.   TERRY,    OF   THE   COMMITTEE. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  175 

As  we  pass  Buena  Vista,  25  miles  west  of  Salida,  the 
setting  sun  is  shining  upon  the  snow-crowned  summits 
of  the  collegiate  group  of  mountain  peaks,  Harvard, 
Yale,  and  Princeton,  and  many  are  the  exclamations  of 
pleasure  and  delight  at  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the 
sight.  These  three  peaks,  each  over  14,000  feet  in 
height,  are  a  part  of  the  Sawatch  Range  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  With  their  cloud-veiled  crests  wreathed  in 
perpetual  snow,  those  majestic,  rugged  giants  are  ever 
subjects  of  interest  and  pleasure  to  tourists;  but  this 
evening  the  setting  sun  has  transformed  their  crowns  of 
glistening  snow  into  dazzling  diamonds,  and  the  veil  of 
fleecy  clouds  that  hang  about  their  summits  into  a  gor- 
geous canopy  of  purple,  silver,  and  gold.  It  is  a  scene  of 
transcendent  loveliness  and  grandeur.  No  wonder  our 
people  are  in  ecstasies  of  delight.  Mrs.  Dougherty  claps 
her  hands,  and  Mrs.  Matthews  exclaims,  "Jimmie,  look  1" 
Jimmie,  Waddie,  Oscar,  and  the  Colonel  suspend  their 
interesting  game  of  euchre  and  turn  their  attention  for  a 
moment  to  the  mountains  and  the  clouds.  Mrs.  Horner 
has  such  an  expression  of  intense  rapture  in  her  face  that 
Sam,  thinking  she  is  about  to  have  a  fit,  pours  a  glass  of 
ice  water  down  her  back.  Mrs.  Mattson  says  she  be- 
lieves she  has  an  artist's  soul,  for  a  sight  like  this  makes 
her  nerves  tingle  and  her  mouth  water,  and  the  Doctor, 
standing  near,  is  explaining  to  an  interested  circle  the 
philosophy  of  sunshine,  clouds,  and  colors  in  their  rela- 
tion to  towering,  snow-crowned  peaks.  Suddenly  mount- 
ain views  are  obstructed  and  the  light  of  day  is  almost 
excluded  by  massive  walls  of  rock  that  encompass  us. 
We  have  plunged  into  Brown's  Canon,  a  mighty  chasm 
in  the  mountain,  between  whose  towering  cliffs  there  is 


176  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

just  room  enough  for  the  Arkansas  River  and  the  rail- 
road. For  many,  many  years  the  river  held  undisputed 
sway  and  rushed  unaccompanied  and  alone  through  this 
rocky,  desolate  gorge,  till  then  the  railroad  came.  The 
nerve  and  daring  of  the  men  who  brought  it  were  equal 
to  the  task.  They  followed  the  foaming  river  into  this 
wild  ravine  and  fearlessly  built  their  tracks  upon  its 
spray-bathed  banks;  and  now  as  train  and  river  rush 
headlong  together  through  this  narrow,  dark  defile,  the 
snort  of  the  locomotive  and  rumble  of  the  train  mingles 
with  the  roar  and  gurgle  of  the  tumultuous  torrent. 

We  emerge  from  the  canon  as  suddenly  as  we  entered 
it,  and  the  broad,  fertile  valley  of  the  Arkansas  greets 
our  vision.  It  is  a  pleasant  change.  Still  following  the 
river,  we  traverse  the  valley  until  at  7.55,  as  daylight 
is  fading  and  it  is  growing  dusk,  our  train  comes  to  a 
stop  in  Salida.  We  are  met  at  the  station  by  Superin- 
tendent R.  M.  Ridgway,  Trainmaster  G.  H.  Barnes, 
and  Chief  Dispatcher  W.  Rech,  of  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande  Railroad,  who  give  us  a  cordial  welcome  and 
kindly  inform  us  that  arrangements  have  been  made  to 
give  us  a  trip  to-morrow  over  the  narrow-gauge  road 
to  Marshall  Pass  and  return.  Escorted  by  Mr.  Hooper 
and  Conductor  Newsman,  a  number  of  us  start  out  to 
see  the  town. 

Salida  is  a  quiet,  clean,  orderly,  picturesque  little 
mountain  town  of  about  3500  inhabitants.  It  is  situated 
on  the  Arkansas  River,  with  an  elevation  of  7050  feet. 
We  accept  an  invitation  to  visit  the  fine  parlors  of  the 
Salida  Club  and  are  royally  treated  by  the  members 
present.  Our  bosom  friend  and  life  preserver,  Tom 
McDonald,  is  along,  and  proves  to  be  quite  an  expert 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  177 

with  the  billiard  cue,  giving  his  opponent,  Dr.  Mattson, 
a  hard  hustle  in  the  game  they  play.  A  party  of  our 
ladies  get  on  our  trail  and  overtake  us  at  the  club. 
They  present  the  bachelor  brothers  of  the  party  each 
with  a  miniature  souvenir  spoon,  but  give  no  explana- 
tion why  this  is  done.  The  inference  is  that  it  is  but 
an  act  of  sisterly  good-fellowship  that  needs  no  inter- 
pretation. Following  the  presentation  of  the  spoons  the 
ladies  entertain  us  for  half  an  hour  with  excellent  sing- 
ing and  music  on  the  piano.  As  it  draws  near  mid- 
night we  return  to  our  train  and  turn  in.  Some  of  the 
"boys,"  it  is  noticed,  are  not  with  us  when  we  reach 
the  train,  and  to  them  I  will  have  to  ascribe  another 
line  of  "unwritten  history." 

TUESDAY,  JUNE  1st. 

Everybody  is  up  bright  and  early  this  morning,  in 
anticipation  of  the  promised  trip  up  the  mountains  to 
Marshall  Pass.  After  breakfast  we  board  a  special  train 
on  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Narrow-Gauge  Railroad, 
and  at  8.12  o'clock  start  on  a  novel  and  interesting  ride 
of  25  miles  over  a  road  that  is  a  marvel  of  engineering 
ingenuity  and  skill.  It  requires  two  engines  to  make 
the  laborious  ascent,  which  in  many  places  is  211  feet 
to  the  mile.  Our  engines  are  No.  175,  manned  by 
Engineer  Sam  Roney  and  Fireman  W.  Brewster;  helper 
engine  No.  400,  Engineer  W.  D.  Yates,  Fireman  M.  M. 
Smith.  Conductor  M.  Guerin  has  charge  of  the  train, 
and  the  brakemen  are  Tom  Kelley  and  F.  Duncan. 

Five  miles  from  Salida  we  reach  Poncha  Junction,  and 
here  the  winding  and  climbing  commences  in  earnest. 


1^8  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

The  weather  since  we  started  has  become  unfavorable; 
clouds  obscure  the  sun  and  hide  the  summits  of  the  sur- 
rounding peaks.  It  has  commenced  to  rain,  but  the 
rain  lasts  only  for  a  little  while.  As  we  ascend  the 
clouds  become  lighter,  and  finally  we  see  the  sun  and 
the  sky.  Looking  down,  the  clouds  and  mist  hide  the 
valleys  from  our  sight — we  are  above  the  clouds  and  rain ; 
looking  up,  we  behold  the  brightest,  bluest  sky  we  have 
ever  seen;  and  still  our  course  is  upward.  Our  engines 
snort  and  cough  and  puff  as  they  slowly  climb  and  wind 
the  spiral  pathway  that  leads  to  the  wind-swept  summit. 

As  we  near  the  top  we  have  a  magnificent  unob- 
structed view  of  grand,  majestic  mountain  scenery. 
Near  by  looms  up  mighty  Mt.  Ouray,  an  extinct  volcano, 
down  whose  rugged  sides,  ages  ago,  the  molten  lava 
flowed;  fire-scarred  and  grim  he  stands,  a  silent,  frown- 
ing sentinel  guarding  the  mountain  pass.  His  compan- 
ion, Mt.  Shaveno,  is  near,  his  towering  summit  being 
crowned  with  eternal  snow.  Mounts  Ouray  and  Shaveno 
were  named  in  honor  of  the  famous  Ute  Indian  chiefs, 
and  are  everlasting  monuments  to  the  memory  of  a  once 
powerful  tribe. 

Far  in  the  distance,  many  miles  to  the  south,  can  be 
seen,  mingling  with  the  sky  and  clouds,  the  gleaming 
peaks  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  Mountains,  the  grandest 
range  of  the  Sierras.  All  this  range  of  vision,  from 
Ouray  to  Sangre  de  Cristo,  is  filled  with  picturesque  val- 
leys, timbered  hills,  mountain  canons,  towering  peaks, 
and  glistening  snow.  While  we  are  feasting  our  eyes 
upon  this  grandeur,  suddenly  it  is  shut  out  from  view, 
for  we  have  entered  a  dismal  snow  shed.  The  train 
stops  and  our  journey  is  ended.  We  get  out  of  the  train, 


COLONEL    AND    MRS.    MITCHKLL    AT    MARSHALL    PASS. 


THE    "  COMMITTEE  "    AT   MARSHALL    PASS. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  1/9 

and  looking  around,  we  see  a  door  that  leads  from  the 
shed,  which  we  pass  through,  and  find  snowdrifts  six 
feet  deep  and  the  wind  blowing  a  gale. 

I  see  Brother  Restein  snap  his  kodak  at  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Mitchell  as  they  bravely  face  the  wintry  blast;  the 
committee  is  lined  up  and  he  also  snaps  at  them.  Steps 
lead  to  a  lofty  tower  and  a  number  of  us  ascend.  Some 
start  and  turn  back;  the  exertion  makes  your  heart  beat 
like  a  trip  hammer,  cuts  your  wind,  and  makes  you  dizzy. 
We  who  reach  the  top  do  not  tarry  long;  the  view  is 
magnificent,  but  the  wind  is  cold.  Overcoats  and  wraps 
were  brought  along  and  they  are  needed ;  the  thermome- 
ter registered  eleven  last  night,  and  now  it  stands  at 
thirty-three.  It  is  a  bleak,  barren,  wind-swept  place, 
and  yet  it  is  healthy. 

A  family  has  been  living  here  for  five  years.  The 
husband  and  father  is  employed  on  the  road  and  the 
mother  has  charge  of  the  station.  She  has  never  been 
absent  from  the  place,  she  says,  since  they  took  up  their 
residence  here.  The  oldest  child  was  an  infant  when 
they  came,  and  two  have  been  born  since.  They  are 
fine,  healthy  children,  and  have  never  been  sick.  A 
doctor  has  never  visited  them,  she  says,  because  one  has 
never  been  needed.  We  are  ready  to  leave  before  the 
train  is  ready  to  take  us;  a  short  visit  to  a  place  like  this 
is  sufficient.  Several  of  the  "boys"  amuse  themselves  by 
snowballing  one  another  and  washing  with  snow  the 
faces  of  some  of  the  "girls." 

Marshall  Pass  is  10,852  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  and  is  situated  upon  a  point  of  the  Great  Continental 
Divide — on  the  ridge  pole,  as  it  were,  between  the  At- 
lantic and  Pacific  slopes.  Within  the  dingy  snow  shed 


l8o  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

where  our  train  is  standing  we  notice  water  slowly  trick- 
ling down  the  bank  into  the  ditch  along  the  track;  it 
makes  a  tiny  stream,  just  large  enough  to  flow,  and  we 
can  see  that  it  is  running  in  each  direction.  A  number 
of  us  place  our  fingers  upon  the  dividing  line,  thus  liter- 
ally touching  a  point  of  the  very  comb  of  the  great  water 
shed  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans. 

Our  return  is  made  with  more  speed  than  our  ascent, 
but  in  a  very  careful  manner;  helper  engine  400  is  de- 
tached and  sent  ahead.  The  descent  is  made  by  gravity, 
the  air  brakes  being  used  to  keep  the  train  under  control. 
Engineer  Roney  deserves  great  credit  for  the  careful 
manner  in  which  he  handles  the  train.  A  stop  of  five 
minutes  is  made  at  Mear's  Junction,  where  we  make  the 
acquaintance  of  Station  Agent  Smith,  who,  along  with 
his  duties  as  station  agent  and  telegraph  operator,  is  an 
artist  of  merit;  a  number  of  pictures  of  mountain  scenery 
that  he  has  painted  adorn  the  walls  of  the  station  rooms. 

When  we  get  back  to  Salida  and  to  our  train  it  is  2.05 
P.  M.  Eastern  (12.05  P.  M.  Mountain)  time.  We  find 
our  friend  McDonald  looking  for  us,  with  an  abundant 
lunch  prepared,  which  we  heartily  appreciate  and 
thoroughly  enjoy.  We  are  scheduled  to  leave  here  at 
one  o'clock,  and  as  it  is  nearing  that  time,  we  bid  adieu 
to  the  good  people  of  Salida  who  have  shown  us  such  a 
royal  time,  and  at  one  o'clock,  sharp,  we  steam  away 
from  the  pretty  little  town,  bound  for  Colorado  Springs, 
142  miles  nearer  home. 

Leaving  Salida  we  have  engine  509,  in  charge  of 
Engineer  John  Carr  and  Fireman  R.  Wilmonger.  Our 
conductor  is  J.  E.  Duey,  a  member  of  Arkansas  Valley 
Division  No.  36,  of  Pueblo,  Col.  Brother  Duey  enjoys 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  l8l 

the  notoriety  of  being  a  cousin  to  the  late  Jesse  James, 
the  famous  bandit  and  train  robber.  The  brakemen  are 
S.  G.  Carlisle  and  William  Shoemaker.  Charlie  Hooper 
is  still  with  us,  and  at  present  is  busily  engaged  in  dis- 
tributing fine  photographic  pictures  of  scenes  along  the 
picturesque  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad.  Mr. 
Hooper's  kindness  and  generosity  are  greatly  appre- 
ciated, and  the  pictures  will  be  highly  prized  as  valuable 
souvenirs  of  our  trip.  In  addition  to  Mr.  Hooper  we 
have  with  us  as  guests  Brothers  W.  Newman  and  Frank 
Smith,  of  Division  44,  and  Harry  Hart,  of  Division  36. 
A  short  stop  is  made  at  Parkdale,  46  miles  from  Salida, 
where  we  meet  Rev.  John  Brunton,  who  is  invited  to  ac- 
company us  to  Pueblo.  Mr.  Brunton,  who  is  an  old 
engineer,  retired  from  active  service,  is  First  Division 
Chaplain,  and  has  charge  of  the  employes'  reading 
room  in  Pueblo.  He  is  an  entertaining  old  gentleman; 
says  he  is  employed  to  fight  the  devil,  who  is  always 
sneaking  around  after  railroad  men.  Brother  Houston 
says,  "A  man  like  that  is  needed  on  the  Schuylkill  Divis- 
ion." No  one  replies  to  this  insinuation,  except  Brother 
Reagan,  who  merely  says,  "Sure." 

Soon  after  leaving  Parkdale  we  enter  the  Grand  Canon 
of  the  Arkansas,  which  is  8  miles  in  length  and  the 
crowning  wonder  of  all  the  marvelous  sights  we  have 
yet  beheld;  a  mighty  pathway,  right  through  the  heart 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  hewn  by  Nature  through  in- 
accessible towering  mountain  walls.  Through  this  nar- 
row gorge,  whose  perpendicular  walls  rise  to  the  height 
of  over  2000  feet,  the  crowded,  pent-up  waters  of  the 
Arkansas  River  rush  and  roar  and  foam.  There  is 
scarcely  space  for  both  railroad  and  river,  but  with  an 


l82  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

audacity  that  knows  no  shrinking  the  intrepid  engineers 
entered  the  walled-up,  darksome  canon,  and,  following 
the  intricate  winding  of  the  surging  stream,  laid  their 
tracks  of  steel  along  its  foam-flecked  bank.  Beyond  a 
doubt  it  is  the  most  daring  feat  of  railroad  engineering 
ever  performed.  When  half  way  through  the  awful 
Royal  Gorge  is  reached,  here  the  river  holds  despotic, 
undisputed  sway  for  a  distance  of  100  feet.  There  is  no 
bank  to  lay  the  tracks  upon;  from  wall  to  wall  the  river 
surges,  leaps,  and  roars.  From  out  the  water  those 
mighty  walls,  built  by  Nature's  hand,  run  right  straight 
up,  2600  feet  in  the  air.  Ingenuity  and  nerve  solves  the 
problem ;  a  bridge  is  built  parallel  with  the  river's  course, 
one  side  resting  upon  a  granite  ledge,  hewn  in  the  side 
of  the  cliff,  the  other  side  suspended  from  rods  attached 
to  the  overhanging  wall  of  the  opposite  cliff.  Over  this 
construction  the  trains  securely  pass,  while  underneath 
the  torrent  rushes  on. 

Before  reaching  the  bridge  our  train  stops,  and  as 
many  as  wish  get  out  and  walk  over,  in  order  to  obtain  a 
good  view  of  the  awe-inspiring  grandeur  of  the  Royal 
Gorge.  It  is  truly  a  wonderful  sight,  and  one  we  will 
never  forget.  We  do  not  tarry  long  to  contemplate  the 
scenery,  for  a  mean,  commonplace  shower  of  rain  is  fall- 
ing, and  we  hurry  to  the  train  to  avoid  getting  wet. 

Issuing  from  the  canon,  we  enter  a  broad  and  fertile 
valley,  through  which  flows  the  ever-present  Arkansas 
River,  and  in  a  short  time  pass  through  Canon  City,  a 
town  of  considerable  importance,  having  a  population  of 
3000,  and  the  county  seat  of  Fremont  County.  The 
State  penitentiary  is  located  here,  and  near  by  are 
mineral  springs  of  great  value,  making  it  a  favorite  resort 


THE  ROYAL  GORGE  AND  HANGING  BRIDGE,  GRAND  CANON  OF  THE  ARKANSAS. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  183 

for  those  in  quest  of  retirement  or  health.  We  didn't 
stop.  The  sight  of  the  broad,  unfettered  freedom  of  the 
fertile  Arkansas  Valley,  with  its  hundreds  of  acres  of  fine 
orchards  and  miles  of  magnificent  grazing  land,  is  a 
pleasure  and  relief  after  so  much  cramped  and  rocky 
glory,  and  gloomy,  walled-up  grandeur. 

Pueblo  is  reached  at  6.25  P.  M.  Eastern  (4.25  P.  M. 
Mountain)  time,  and  a  stop  of  ten  minutes  is  made  for 
the  purpose  of  changing  engines.  We  have  not  time  to 
take  in  the  city,  but  we  disembark  and  take  a  look  about 
the  depot,  which  is  called  Union  Station,  being  the  joint 
property  of  five  different  roads  and  used  by  them  all, 
namely,  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande,  Santa  Fe,  Missouri 
Pacific,  Rock  Island,  and  Union  Pacific,  Denver  and 
Gulf.  The  building  is  composed  of  red  sandstone,  a 
handsome  structure,  and  is  commodious  and  convenient. 
Pueblo,  though  situated  in  a  valley  or  basin  surrounded 
on  three  sides  by  distant  mountain  ranges,  enjoys  an 
elevation  of  4668  feet.  It  has  a  population  of  40,000  in- 
habitants, is  the  centre  of  extensive  mining  industries 
and  immense  railroad  traffic.  Because  of  its  great,  ever- 
smoking  smelters,  and  glowing  furnaces  and  foundries, 
Pueblo  is  often  called  the  "Pittsburgh  of  the  West."  The 
Arkansas  River  flows  through  the  heart  of  the  city,  but 
is  not  navigable,  and  its  sloping  banks  are  neatly  walled 
to  prevent  overflow  in  time  of  freshet.  Bidding  good-bye 
to  our  old  new-found  friend,  Rev.  Brunton,  and  waving 
adieu  to  the  509  and  the  gallant  men  in  her  cab  who 
brought  us  safely  through  such  scenes  of  weird,  bewilder- 
ing, perilous  grandeur,  we  start  on  our  way  again  with 
engine  534,  in  charge  of  Engineer  Henry  Hinman  and 
Fireman  George  Courtly.  Conductor  Duey  and  Brake- 


184  NINE   THOUSAND^  MILES 

men  Carlisle  and  Shoemaker  go  with  us  to  Colorado 
Springs. 

After  leaving  Pueblo  we  pass  through  an  extensive  oil 
district,  where  many  wells  are  in  operation,  and  we  are 
told  the  yield  is  very  heavy.  We  arrive  in  Colorado 
Springs  at  8.20  P.  M.  Eastern  (6.20  P.  M.  Mountain) 
time,  and  escorted  by  Brothers  Newman,  Hart,  Smith, 
and  Mr.  Hooper,  we  start  out  to  see  the  town.  Colorado 
Springs  is  a  model  town.  It  is  quiet,  clean,  and  dry;  in 
fact,  it  is  very  dry,  being  entirely  and  teetotally  temper- 
ance. But  this  is  a  commendable  trait;  we  find  no  fault, 
and  are  all  impressed  with  the  morality  and  good  order 
which  prevail.  It  is  a  healthy  place;  the  houses  are  not 
crowded  together.  The  population  is  12,000;  the  town 
has  an  elevation  of  5982  feet,  and  covers  an  area  of 
four  square  miles.  It  is  much  resorted  to  by  invalids, 
and  thousands,  we  are  told,  are  yearly  benefited  by  tak- 
ing advantage  of  its  exhilarating  atmosphere,  favorable 
climatic  conditions,  and  the  pleasure  and  enjoyment  de- 
rived from  interesting  and  beautiful  natural  environ- 
ments. 

Soon  after  starting  out  we  encounter  Brother  D.  F. 
McPherson,  secretary  and  treasurer  of  Holy  Cross  Divis- 
ion 252,  of  Leadville,  who  joins  us  in  our  rambles. 
After  giving  the  quiet  little  city  a  pretty  thorough  in- 
spection, we  are  grouped  upon  a  corner  discussing  where 
we  shall  go  next.  "We  have  shown  you  the  most 
cleanly  and  orderly  town  in  the  State  of  Colorado,"  re- 
marks Mr.  Hooper,  "and  now  I  would  like  to  show  you 
just  the  reverse;  we  will  take  the  next  car  and  slip  over 
to  Oldtown."  In  two  minutes  the  car  comes,  and  get- 
ting aboard,  a  ride  of  two  miles  brings  us  to  the  neigh- 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  185 

boring  town,  where  it  seems  every  third  door  is  a  saloon 
and  gambling  resort.  Wherever  we  go  there  is  turmoil 
and  excitement.  We  see  no  outbreaks  of  strife,  but  in 
these  crowded  gambling  rooms  we  visit,  the  swarthy 
miner  and  reckless  stockman  jostle  one  another  in  their 
eagerness  to  reach  the  tempting  roulette  wheel  or  allur- 
ing faro  table.  We  can  see  they  are  excited,  although 
they  are  calm,  but  it  is  the  calmness  of  suppressed  emo- 
tion, and  we  are  careful  as  we  move  among  them  not  to 
tread  upon  their  toes;  not  that  we  are  afraid  to  tramp 
their  toes  if  we  want  to,  but  we  don't  want  to;  we  didn't 
come  out  West  to  make  trouble,  so  we  are  always  careful 
what  we  do,  if  we  are  not  so  careful  where  we  go. 

Getting  enough  of  Oldtown,  we  board  a  car  and  are 
soon  back  in  sedate  Colorado  Springs  and  seek  our  train, 
that  is  sidetracked  for  occupancy  near  the  station.  I 
size  up  the  crowd  as  they  file  in  and  find  some  are  miss- 
ing; they  have  dropped  out  of  the  ranks  and  escaped  us, 
and — more  "unwritten  history."  It  is  near  midnight,  all 
is  dark  and  silent,  and  we  quietly  seek  our  berths. 

WEDNESDAY,  JUNE  2d. 

All  are  up  about  the  usual  time  this  morning,  and  after 
breakfast  Manager  Wyman  announces  that  those  who 
wish  to  make  the  ascent  of  Pike's  Peak  will  take  the  8.30 
train  on  the  Colorado  Springs  and  Manitou  Branch  for 
Manitou,  six  miles  away,  where  the  Manitou  and  Pike's 
Peak  railway  station  is  located.  The  8.30  train  starts 
with  about  half  of  our  party  on  board.  It  is  cloudy  and 
we  are  afraid  the  weather  will  be  unfavorable  for  the 
trip.  When  we  arrive  at  the  station  in  Manitou  we  can 


l86  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

see  that  the  great  mountain  is  enveloped  in  fog  and  mist. 
We  hesitate  about  going  up,  but  the  station  agent  re- 
ceives a  telephone  message  from  the  summit,  saying  the 
weather  up  there  is  clear,  and  the  most  of  us  decide  to 
go.  And  when  at  9.40  we  start,  I  notice  the  occupants 
of  the  car  and  find  the  following  members  of  our  party 
aboard:  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wyman,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maxwell, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Layfield,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Horner,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mitchell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Dougherty,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Climenson,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Foulon,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Elder,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Reilly,  Mr.  and  Miss  Barrett  and  a  lady 
friend,  Miss  Emma  Leibing;  Mr.  Reagan  and  a  lady 
friend,  Miss  Jennie  Heaney;  Mrs.  Mattson,  Messrs. 
Waddington,  Haas,  Taylor,  Crispen,  Denniston,  Moore, 
Williams,  Sloane,  Kilgore,  Restein,  and  myself.  The  car 
is  pushed  by  engine  No.  4,  in  charge  of  Engineer  D.  M. 
Jones.  This  little  locomotive  is  an  odd-looking  thing, 
built  expressly  for  this  line  by  the  Baldwin  Locomotive 
Works,  of  Philadelphia,  Pa.  It  has  four  cylinders  and 
carries  200  pounds  steam  pressure.  It  is  constructed 
wdth  two  cog  wheels  underneath  its  centre,  which  operate 
in  corresponding  cog  rails  placed  in  the  centre  of  the 
track,  and  has  the  appearance  of  being  a  strong  and  safe 
appliance.  Engine  and  car  are  not  coupled  together, 
but  the  engine  in  the  rear  pushes  the  car  ahead  of  it, 
which  gives  the  tourist  a  fine,  unobstructed  view  of  the 
scenery. 

The  grade  averages  almost  900  feet  to  the  mile,  which 
we  ascend  at  the  rate  of  about  five  miles  per  hour.  The 
road  is  almost  nine  miles  in  length  and  we  are  one  hour 
and  forty-five  minutes  making  the  ascent,  having  left 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  187 

the  station  at  Manitou  at  9.40  and  arriving  at  the  sum- 
mit at  11.25.  We  thought  it  was  a  slow  trip  and  a 
tedious  climb,  but  it  wasn't  when  we  consider  the  ex- 
perience of  some  other  people  in  connection  with  this 
mountain  several  years  ago.  Ambition  and  desire  are 
strong  impulses  in  human  nature,  often  having  more  in- 
fluence than  a  sense  of  duty. 

When  Major  Zebulon  M.  Pike  first  sighted  this 
mountain  that  bears  his  name  on  the  morning  of  Novem- 
ber 1 3th,  1806,  he  had  a  burning  desire  to  give  it  a  close 
inspection,  and  led  his  followers  a  ten  days'  rugged 
march  before  he  reached  its  base.  From  this  point  he 
looked  up  to  its  apparently  inaccessible  snow-crowned 
summit,  and  concluded  it  would  be  impossible  to  scale 
its  rocky,  bouldered  sides.  Retiring  from  the  locality, 
he  reported  that  he  "had  discovered  a  grand  mountain 
peak,  bare  of  vegetation  and  covered  with  snow,  but  he 
believed  that  no  human  being  could  ever  ascend  to  its 
pinnacle." 

When,  thirteen  years  afterwards,  on  the  morning  of 
July  I3th,  1819,  Dr.  Edwin  James  and  his  four  comrades 
stood  and  gazed  upon  the  terribly  wild  and  awful 
grandeur  of  this  mighty  mountain  peak,  they  faced  the 
same  conditions  that  caused  the  intrepid  Pike  to  turn 
his  back  upon  the  scene  and  withdraw:  perpendicular 
cliffs  whose  walls  no  man  can  climb,  enormous  rocks  and 
giant  boulders  impossible  to  remove  or  surmount,  great 
chasms  that  cannot  be  crossed  or  bridged,  deep,  wild 
ravines  that  seem  to  be  impenetrable.  All  this  they  saw, 
yet  they  did  not  hesitate,  for  they  were  filled  with  a  wild 
ambition  and  burning  desire  to  accomplish  what  Pike 
had  not  dared  to  undertake.  So  they  started,  and  after 


l88  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

two  days  of  perilous  hardship  and  toil  they  reached  the 
summit,  on  July  I4th,  1819. 

Their  ambition  was  gratified,  and  so  is  ours.  We  did 
not  come  up  for  pleasure,  for  there  is  no  pleasure  in  it; 
the  novelty  of  the  thing  brought  us  here,  and  we  find  it 
novel  enough.  We  wanted  to  stand  on  the  apex  of  these 
snow-bound,  wind-swept,  zero-blistered  heights,  14,147 
feet  above  the  beating  billows  of  the  sea,  and  see  what 
it  is  like.  We  are  finding  out ;  it  is  colder  than  Chestnut 
Hill  in  midwinter.  The  snow  is  six  feet  deep  and  the 
wind  whistles  a  tune  as  it  sweeps  through  Colonel  Lay- 
field's  whiskers.  The  sun  is  shining  when  we  get  out 
of  the  car,  and  with  the  snow  whirling  down  our  backs 
and  tears  streaming  from  our  eyes  we  spend  three 
minutes  looking  down  upon  the  far-away  valley  scenery 
and  the  towns  of  Manitou  and  Colorado  Springs.  Then 
we  enter  the  old  Government  signal  station,  which  has 
been  turned  into  a  curio  shop,  telegraph  office,  post 
office,  and  restaurant.  We  find  the  temperature  more 
congenial,  and  put  in  the  time  examining  and  purchasing 
novelties  which  are  neither  valuable  or  cheap,  but  are 
wanted  for  souvenirs.  We  buy  postal  cards  at  ten  cents 
each  and  mail  them  to  friends,  and  send  telegrams  at  five 
cents  per  word.  Manager  Wyman  sends  a  dispatch  to 
Ticket  Receiver  Stackhouse,  Philadelphia,  informing  him 
of  our  whereabouts  and  condition,  but  he  couldn't  tell  it 
all.  The  message  didn't  tell  how  near  Waddie  was  to 
being  fired  off  the  train  at  Hell  Gate  because  he  couldn't 
find  his  ticket,  as  Restein  had  it  in  his  pocket;  nor  how 
eager  Sloane  was  to  chase  the  badger  we  saw  running 
over  the  rocks  above  Timber  Line,  but  the  conductor 
wouldn't  stop  the  train  to  let  him  off. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  189 

We  have  got  enough  of  Pike's  Peak  and  are  ready  to 
go,  but  the  engine  is  away  with  the  snow  plow  and  we 
will  have  to  wait  for  its  return.  We  have  seen  all  there 
is  to  be  seen  and  have  bought  what  souvenirs  we  want. 
My  last  purchase  was  a  tissue-paper  napkin;  I  gave 
thirty  cents  for  it,  but  had  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  sandwich 
thrown  in.  Our  engine  has  returned  and  we  go  out  to 
get  in  the  car.  The  sun  is  hidden  by  a  great  dark  cloud, 
the  wind  blows  harder  than  ever,  and  the  car  is  locked 
up.  A  photographer  is  on  hand  with  his  outfit  and 
wants  to  take  a  picture;  somebody  ought  to  throw  him 
over  the  precipice.  We  are  huddled  about  the  end  of 
the  car  like  a  tempest-stricken  flock  outside  a  sheepfold 
gate,  shivering  and  shaking  in  the  blast.  As  the  picture 
fiend  adjusts  the  camera  it  begins  to  snow;  in  thirty 
seconds  we  are  in  a  raging  blizzard,  the  instrument  snaps 
and  the  car  door  is  unlocked,  but  before  we  all  get  inside 
many  of  us  are  covered  with  snow. 

We  are  in  the  storm  until  we  get  below  Timber  Line, 
and  the  force  of  the  wind  drives  the  snow  across  the  car 
as  it  sifts  through  the  ventilators  and  in  around  the 
windows,  and  some  of  us  are  feeling  pretty  groggy.  I 
do  not  like  the  sensation;  when  I  speak  I  talk  through 
my  hat,  and  my  ear  drums  feel  ready  to  burst.  When  I 
go  up  so  high  again  I  want  to  go  to  stay;  there  may  be 
such  a  thing  as  becoming  acclimated. 

The  descent  is  made  in  a  careful  manner,  with  the 
engine  in  front.  We  arrive  safely  in  Manitou  at  1.40 
P.  M.,  and  the  party  scatters.  Some  return  to  Colorado 
Springs  and  some  drive  through  the  Garden  of  the  Gods. 
Many  who  did  not  ascend  the  peak  have  had  a  good 
time  visiting  other  interesting  places,  and  tell  interesting 


190  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

stories  of  the  remarkable  things  they  saw.  The  little 
burros  or  donkeys  are  in  evidence  everywhere,  and  sev- 
eral of  our  people  got  their  photos  taken  seated  on  these 
cute  little  animals  with  the  Balance  Rock  in  the  back- 
ground. Some  of  the  timid  ladies  of  our  party,  I  am 
told,  are  shy  of  these  meek  little  creatures,  saying  they 
look  fierce  and  dangerous  because  their  ears  are  so  large. 
The  only  danger  is  in  their  hind  feet,  for  they  can  kick 
very  quick  and  hard,  injuring  one  another  sometimes 
in  this  way  when  they  get  to  frolicking,  which  they 
often  do. 

Brother  Schuler  was  in  one  of  the  carriages  that  drove 
through  the  "Garden  of  the  Gods"  to-day,  and  it  is  in- 
teresting to  hear  him  relate  in  his  inimitable  manner  the 
many  curious  things  to  be  seen.  A  heavy  thunder  and 
hail  storm  descended  upon  Manitou  this  afternoon,  with 
another  blizzard  on  the  peak,  and  the  weather  has  be- 
come quite  cool.  Mrs.  E.  T.  Postlewaite  took  dinner 
with  us  to-day  as  a  guest  of  Brother  and  Mrs.  Springer. 
Our  people  are  scattered  this  evening,  amusing  them- 
selves in  various  ways.  Brothers  Brown,  Horner,  and 
myself  take  a  stroll  after  dinner.  We  stop  at  the  Antlers 
Hotel,  that  is  well  worth  a  visit,  being  one  of  the  finest- 
equipped  hotels  we  have  seen  in  our  travels. 

We  were  introduced  to  the  chief  of  police  of  the  city 
and  kindly  shown  the  large,  interesting,  and  gruesome 
collection  in  the  Rogues'  Gallery,  pictures  of  some  of  the 
most  noted  crooks  and  renegades  that  ever  infested  the 
West,  along  with  weapons  and  tools  of  all  descriptions 
that  were  used  in  their  murderous  and  nefarious  busi- 
ness. One  set  of  burglar  implements,  in  particular,  con- 
taining one  hundred  and  fifty-five  pieces,  that  had  been 


BRIDE   AND   GROOM   AT    BALANCE   ROCK,    GARDEN   OF 
THE   GODS,    COLORADO. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  IQI 

captured  from  a  suspect  by  the  name  of  Jerome  Markle, 
we  find  very  interesting;  it  is  said  to  be  the  largest  and 
most  complete  burglar's  outfit  ever  captured.  Return- 
ing to  the  train  about  9.30,  we  are  glad  to  meet  W.  E. 
Frenaye,  Esq.,  city  editor  of  the  Colorado  Springs 
Gazette,  who  has  dropped  in  on  us  for  a  friendly  chat. 
Mr.  Frenaye  was  connected  with  Assistant  General  Pas- 
senger Agent  Boyd's  office  at  one  time,  and  is  an  old 
friend  of  Brother  Maxwell.  Being  scheduled  to  leave 
here  at  2  o'clock  A.  M.,  we  all  turn  in  at  a  reasonable 
hour. 

THURSDAY,  JUNE  3d. 

Getting  up  this  morning  at  six  o'clock,  I  find  we  are 
entering  Denver.  We  have  engine  570,  Engineer  Wm. 
Jenness,  Fireman  W.  C.  Lawhead,  Conductor  I.  Larsen, 
Brakemen  Cunningforth  and  McGinn.  Soon  as  the 
train  stops,  Mrs.  Terry  and  Mrs.  Shaw  strike  off  in 
search  of  the  post  office,  for  they  are  expecting  letters 
from  home.  Our  train  is  sidetracked  in  the  yard  and 
Brother  Terry  and  I  walk  over  to  the  station,  a  short 
distance  away,  and  look  around.  It  is  pretty  quiet;  the 
great  city  has  not  wakened  up  to  the  business  of  the  day 
and  the  railroads  haven't  commenced  their  bustle  and 
confusion.  This  is  a  large  station,  one  of  the  finest  we 
have  seen  in  the  West;  twelve  railroads  use  it,  which 
diverge  from  here  in  all  directions  and  run  to  all  parts 
of  the  United  States.  This  is  what  a  railroad  time  table 
tells  us  that  I  have  just  picked  up.  It  also  tells  us  that 
Denver  is  considerable  of  a  town,  that  it  is  the  county 
seat  of  Arapahoe  County  and  the  capital  of  the  State  of 
Colorado.  It  enjoys  an  altitude  of  5196  feet  and  has  a 
population  of  165,000  inhabitants. 


192  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

We  return  to  the  train  and  find  breakfast  waiting. 
While  we  are  at  breakfast  the  ladies  return  from  the  post 
office;  they  were  too  early  to  get  letters,  for  the  office 
wasn't  open,  but  they  were  loaded  with  souvenirs  they 
had  procured  on  the  way.  After  breakfast  we  are  noti- 
fied to  remove  all  stuff  from  our  sections  to  the  baggage 
car,  as  the  cars  are  to  be  cleaned.  This  is  a  notice  that 
isn't  calculated  to  sweeten  temper.  It  has  been  served 
on  us  several  times  since  we  started  from  home,  and  we 
know  what  an  annoyance  it  is,  but  we  rejoice  to  know 
this  is  the  last  time  we  will  suffer  the  inconvenience. 

After  this  task  is  accomplished  a  number  of  us  take  a 
25-mile  ride  around  the  city  on  the  "Seeing  Denver"  trol- 
ley, line.  It  is  a  delightful  ride,  and  in  this  way  we  see 
many  interesting  features  of  the  "Queen  City  of  the 
Plains."  The  car  we  are  on  is  No.  in,  in  charge  of 
Motorman  Ewell  and  Conductor  F.  F.  Porter.  Mr.  H. 
Given  accompanies  the  car  and  points  out  and  explains 
interesting  localities  and  places.  We  can  see  that  the 
educational  facilities  of  Denver  are  up  to  date.  Our  at- 
tention is  called  to  Westminster  University,  located  on 
a  knoll  just  beyond  the  city  limits,  said  to  be  one  of  the 
finest  institutions  of  learning  in  the  State.  We  pass 
near  the  Louisa  M.  Alcott  Public  School,  one  of  the 
finest  public  buildings  we  have  ever  seen.  Having 
reached  the  suburbs  we  are  out  amongst  cultivated  fields, 
and  Mr.  Given,  in  speaking  of  the  fertility  of  Colorado 
soil  and  the  abundance  of  their  crops,  called  our  atten- 
tion to  the  rich  growth  of  the  alfalfa  grass  in  a  field  close 
at  hand.  At  the  utterance  of  the  word  alfalfa  a  protest 
went  up  from  the  party;  they  had  had  all  the  alfalfa  they 
wanted  in  Texas,  and  begged  Mr.  Given  to  give  them  no 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  193 

more.  Manager  Wyman  explained  why  our  people  dis- 
like the  name  of  alfalfa.  Mr.  Given  said  he  could  but 
acknowledge  that  we  had  just  reasons  to  boycott  the 
name,  and  thought  he  could  give  us  some  information 
that  would  increase  our  dislike  the  more.  "Perhaps  you 
do  not  know,"  he  continues,  "that  there  are  hundreds  of 
tons  of  alfalfa  leaves  shipped  yearly  from  Colorado  to 
New  York  to  adulterate  the  tea  you  drink?"  This  is 
certainly  news  to  us;  it  is  something  we  did  not  know, 
nor  are  we  sure  of  it  yet,  notwithstanding  Mr.  Given's 
assertion ;  nevertheless  it  may  be  true. 

We  cross  the  South  Fork  of  the  Platte  River,  that 
flows  through  the  centre  of  the  town,  from  which  the 
city's  supply  of  water  is  taken,  and  are  shown  the  Public 
Park,  containing  four  hundred  acres,  that  is  kept  up  by  a 
tax  on  the  city  property  owners  amounting  to  $125,000 
a  year.  Our  attention  is  directed  to  the  towering  smoke- 
stack of  the  Omaha  and  Giant  Smelter,  which  rises  to 
the  height  of  352  feet  and  is  said  to  be  the  highest 
chimney  in  the  world.  This  is  one  of  the  most  extensive 
smelters  in  America,  and  since  its  erection,  a  trifle  over 
twelve  years  ago,  it  has  treated  ore  amounting  to  nearly 
$300,000,000.  In  addition  to  the  Omaha  and  Giant 
Smelter  there  are  a  number  of  other  plants  in  active 
operation.  The  ores  treated  are  gold,  silver,  copper,  and 
lead.  The  total  product  of  the  Denver  smelting  industry 
amounts  to  $40,000,000  per  year. 

Denver  is  six  by  ten  miles  in  extent,  and  I  think  we 
rode  all  the  way  around  it  and  part  way  through  it.  It 
is  a  city  of  beautiful,  substantial  residences  and  superb 
public  buildings,  the  most  noticeable  being  the  State 
Capitol  Building,  completed  in  1895  and  costing  $2,- 
550,000. 


194  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

The  streets  of  this  great  city  are  not  in  as  clean  a  con- 
dition as  they  might  be;  mud  in  many  places  is  ankle 
deep,  caused,  Mr.  Given  informs  us,  by  the  recent  heavy 
rains  turning  the  dust  into  mud.  What  an  awful  dusty 
city  it  must  be  when  not  muddy;  we  imagine  an  occa- 
sional heavy  shower  is  a  great  relief,  for  dust  is  a  far 
greater  evil  than  mud.  We  would  quietly  suggest  to  the 
City  Fathers  of  this  great  metropolis,  for  the  sake  of  the 
health  and  comfort  of  their  citizens  and  the  pleasure  and 
convenience  of  visitors,  that  they  eliminate  the  dust  from 
their  town  by  scraping  up  and  carting  to  the  dump  the 
mud  from  the  streets,  through  which  pedestrians  are 
forced  to  wade  every  time  it  rains. 

Our  trolley  ride  finished,  we  alight  at  Brown's  Palace 
Hotel.  This  magnificent  structure,  covering  an  entire 
block,  ten  stories  in  height,  built  of  brown  sandstone, 
interior  finished  in  Mexican  onyx,  and  costing  the  neat 
little  sum  of  $2,000,000,  is  the  pride  of  Denver.  Here 
"The  H.  J.  Mayham  Investment  Company"  has  its  head- 
quarters in  a  suite  of  offices  on  the  first  floor.  We  are 
kindly  received  by  Mr.  W.  H.  Coombs,  a  representative 
of  the  company,  who  loads  us  down  with  illustrated  and 
descriptive  books  and  pamphlets. 

It  is  now  past  noon,  and  from  here  our  party  scatters. 
Mrs.  Shaw  desires  to  visit  Mrs.  Edward  Bicking,  for- 
merly Miss  Madeline  Ramsey,  of  West  Chester,  Pa.,  who 
is  living  in  or  near  Denver.  We  consult  a  directory  that 
gives  Mr.  Bicking's  address  as  313  Ashland  Avenue, 
Highlands.  We  immediately  take  a  car,  and  after  a 
lengthy  ride  arrive  at  the  given  address  only  to  find  they 
had  moved  to  Golden,  15  miles  west  of  Denver.  Re- 
turning to  the  Union  Depot,  we  take  the  3.10  train  on 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  1 95 

the  Union  Pacific,  Denver  and  Gulf  Railway,  and  arrive 
in  Golden  after  a  pleasant  ride  of  forty-five  minutes.  We 
have  no  difficulty  in  finding  the  pleasant  home  of  Mr. 
Bicking,  where  we  meet  with  a  cordial  welcome.  They 
persuade  us  to  remain  over  night  with  them  and  we 
enjoy  our  visit  very  much.  Mr.  Bicking  operates  a  large 
paper  mill,  and  having  no  competition  does  a  large  and 
thriving  business.  Golden  is  a  pleasant,  healthy  town, 
having  an  elevation  of  5655  feet.  It  has  about  3000 
population  and  until  1868  was  the  capital  of  Colorado. 
It  is  situated  on  Clear  Creek,  a  fine  mountain  stream,  and 
near  the  entrance  to  the  famous  Clear  Creek  Canon.  It 
is  surrounded  by  towering  cliffs  and  great  mountain 
ranges,  amongst  which  it  quietly  nestles. 

Years  ago  Golden  was  a  stirring  mining  camp,  but  the 
excitement  and  bustle  of  the  mining  industry  has  been 
moved  farther  up  the  canon,  leaving  this  community  in 
comparative  quiet.  Last  July  a  cloudburst  occurred  in 
the  mountains,  and  the  flood,  rushing  down  the  canon, 
swept  through  the  town  of  Golden,  destroying  much 
property  and  drowning  several  persons.  We  took  a 
walk  in  the  evening  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bicking  around 
the  town  and  saw  many  traces  of  the  awfully  destructive 
deluge. 

I  learned  before  leaving  Denver  this  afternoon  that  a 
trip  for  to-morrow  had  been  planned  for  our  party,  over 
the  Union  Pacific,  Denver  and  Gulf  Railway,  up  Clear 
Creek  Canon  to  Silver  Plume,  54  miles  from  Denver. 
The  train  is  due  in  Golden  at  nine  o'clock.  It  is  our 
purpose  to  meet  it  and  join  the  party.  Having  spent  a 
very  pleasant  afternoon  and  evening,  we  retired  about 
ten  o'clock. 


196  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

FRIDAY,  JUNE  4th. 

Having  enjoyed  a  good  night's  rest,  we  arose  about 
seven  o'clock,  and  after  breakfast  Mr.  Bicking  escorted 
us  over  his  mill,  which  is  only  a  short  distance  from  the 
pleasant  cottage  in  which  they  reside.  The  time  arriving 
for  us  to  start  for  the  station,  we  bid  adieu  to  our  kind 
friends  and  join  our  party  on  the  train  under  the  escort 
of  F.  M.  Shaw,  traveling  agent  of  the  Union  Pacific, 
Denver  and  Gulf  Railway,  bound  for  Silver  Plume,  up 
the  picturesque  Clear  Creek  Canon,  and  over  the  Great 
Loop.  We  have  U.  P.  D.  &  G.  Ry.  engine  No.  7,  witlr 
Engineer  Si  Allen  at  the  throttle.  The  train  is  in  charge 
of  Conductor  John  W.  Ryan,  a  member  of  Denver  Divis- 
ion 44,  who  is  an  old  friend  of  Brother  Reagan's.  The 
two  had  not  met  for  years,  and  the  reunion  was  a  happy 
one.  It  was  through  the  efforts  of  Conductor  Ryan  that 
we  are  given  this  pleasant  trip  to-day. 

Leaving  Golden,  we  enter  the  wilds  of  Clear  Creek 
Canon,  similar  in  many  respects  to  Eagle  River  Canon, 
the  mighty  sloping  hills  on  either  side  being  honey- 
combed with  mines.  In  places  the  canon  is  very  narrow ; 
the  rugged  walls  overhanging  the  tracks  almost  meet  at 
the  top,  a  thousand  feet  above.  The  stream  we  follow  is  a 
shallow  one,  and  here  and  there  we  catch  sight  of  a  pros- 
pector wading  in  the  water  with  his  shovel  and  pan, 
washing  the  sand  he  scoops  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
creek  in  the  hope  of  finding  grains  of  gold.  A  diligent 
prospector,  we  are  told,  realizes  in  this  manner  from  two 
to  ten  dollars  per  day.  For  22  miles  we  follow  the  wind- 
ings of  Clear  Creek  up  through  this  narrow,  rocky 
gorge,  and  then  the  canon  terminates  in  an  open,  level 


BACHELORS   AND   BURROS   IN   THE   GARDEN   OF   THE   GODS. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  1 97 

plateau  of  about  one  hundred  acres,  surrounded  by 
seamed  and  rugged  mountains,  grinning  with  prospect- 
ors' pits  and  the  open  mouths  of  mines. 

Here  is  located  the  pretty  little  mining  town  of  Idaho 
Springs,  at  an  elevation  of  7543  feet  We  make  a  stop 
of  ten  minutes  and  get  out  to  look  around.  We  run 
right  along  the  edge  of  the  creek  and  several  of  the  boys 
look  for  gold  in  the  sand  of  the  shallow  water,  but  I 
hear  of  none  being  found.  It  is  cloudy,  a  light  rain  is 
falling,  and  having  reached  a  pretty  high  altitude  the 
wind  is  chilly.  Leaving  Idaho  Springs  the  open  obser- 
vation car  is  almost  deserted,  the  closed  coaches  being 
far  more  comfortable,  the  most  of  our  people  caring 
more  for  comfort  than  for  scenery.  Thirteen  miles  from 
Idaho  Springs  we  pass  through  Georgetown,  a  mining 
town  of  considerable  size.  Here  we  commence  the 
Great  Loop  ascension;  the  railway  winding  around  the 
mountain  crosses  itself  at  one  point,  and  looking  down 
we  see  nearly  200  feet  beneath  us  the  track  where  we  had 
been  but  a  short  time  before.  Thus  we  climb  until  we 
reach  Silver  Plume,  at  an  elevation  of  9176  feet,  arriving 
there  at  12.20  Mountain  time. 

Leaving  the  train,  we  visit  the  Victoria  Tunnel  and 
Mendota  Mine.  Under  the  escort  of  the  mine  boss  the 
majority  of  the  party  enter  the  mine,  each  one  bearing 
a  lighted  candle,  for  the  tunnel  is  dark  as  a  dungeon. 
This  tunnel  is  hewn  from  the  solid  rock  and  extends  for 
2000  feet  straight  into  the  mountain  side  before  the  rich 
vein  of  silver  ore  is  reached.  When  we  reach  the  end 
of  the  tunnel  we  are  almost  directly  under  the  centre  of 
the  peak,  a  thousand  feet  under  the  surface  of  the 
ground.  After  procuring  a  few  small  pieces  of  ore  as 


198  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

souvenirs  we  retraced  our  steps  and  were  glad  to  get  out 
into  open  daylight  once  more.  On  our  return  to  the 
train  we  encountered  a  light  snow  squall.  We  leave 
Silver  Plume  at  2.15  o'clock  for  return  trip,  with 
Brothers  Maxwell,  Reagan,  and  Agent  Shaw  on  the  cow- 
catcher. A  donkey  on  the  track  sees  us  coming,  flops 
his  left  ear,  switches  his  tail,  and  wisely  steps  aside.  We 
arrive  safely  in  Denver  at  six  o'clock  and  find  dinner 
waiting  in  our  dining  car,  to  which  we  all  ably  respond, 
feeling  that  in  McDonald  and  his  worthy  attaches  we 
have  valued  friends.  After  dinner  our  people  scattered 
over  the  city,  amusing  themselves  in  various  ways,  and 
not  having  furnished  the  writer  with  reports  of  their  ex- 
perience, he  can  but  note,  "unwritten  history." 

Brother  F.  H.  Conboy,  of  Division  44,  has  kindly 
made  arrangements  with  the  managers  of  the  Overland 
Park  races  to  admit  members  of  our  party  at  reduced 
rates,  and  a  number  talk  of  attending  the  races  to-mor- 
row should  the  weather  prove  favorable.  We  are  not 
very  highly  impressed  with  this  climate  at  the  present 
time,  for  it  is  entirely  too  cold  and  damp  to  be  agreeable. 

SATURDAY,  JUNE   5th. 

According  to  our  original  itinerary  this  is  the  day  we 
should  arrive  in  Philadelphia,  yet  here  we  are  at  Denver, 
in  the  midst  of  as  disagreeable  a  spell  of  weather,  we  are 
told,  as  ever  was  known  here.  Each  afternoon  since  we 
have  been  here  it  has  snowed  on  the  mountains  and 
rained  in  the  valleys ;  heavy  wraps  and  overcoats  are  worn 
by  our  people  when  they  venture  away  from  the  train. 
"This  is  not  a  sample  of  Colorado  weather,"  I  hear  Charlie 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  199 

Hooper  declare,  and  we  are  all  very  glad  it  isn't,  for  the 
sake  of  the  people  who  have  to  stay  here;  we  are  not 
going  to  remain  much  longer,  and  wouldn't  be  here  now, 
only  for  the  irrepressible  tantrums  of  the  Rio  Grande 
River.  Our  people  scatter  again  to-day,  and  I  cannot 
tell  where  they  went  or  what  they  saw. 

Mrs.  Shaw  and  myself  visited  an  old  friend  and  former 
neighbor,  David  Cannon,  on  his  beautiful  Broadway 
dairy  ranch,  six  miles  south  of  Denver.  An  electric  line 
runs  within  half  a  mile  of  his  residence.  We  were  very 
cordially  received  and  spent  a  pleasant  day.  We  also 
visited  the  splendid  Windsor  ranch,  owned  by  Major 
Dubois,  ex-mayor  of  Leadville,  and  operated  by  Messrs. 
Penrose  and  Cannon.  We  met  the  Major  and  Miss 
Dubois  and  were  very  kindly  treated  by  them.  The 
Windsor  and  Broadway  dairy  farms  comprise  a  fine, 
beautiful,  level  tract  of  land,  containing  1000  acres  in  a 
highly  improved  condition.  It  commenced  to  rain  again 
about  three  o'clock  and  we  returned  to  the  city  in  a  cold, 
beating  storm.  Mrs.  Bicking,  who  was  with  us,  re- 
marked that  in  the  four  years  of  her  residence  in  Colo- 
rado she  had,  heretofore,  experienced  no  such  weather 
as  this. 

The  rain  had  ceased  when  we  reached  our  train,  about 
five  o'clock.  Found  most  of  our  company  there  and 
photo  artists  Stanton  and  Warren  with  their  outfit,  pre- 
paring to  picture  the  train  and  party.  We  forthwith 
arrange  ourselves  in  a  group  about  the  end  of  the  train 
in  a  manner  according  to  the  instructions  of  the  artists. 
Mrs.  Bicking  is  requested  to  join  the  group  and  her  little 
son,  Austin,  is  placed  upon  the  platform  of  the  car.  Our 
dinner  this  evening  was  an  interesting  and  happy  oc- 


2OO  NINE   THOUSAND   MILES 

casion.  Brother  Reagan's  friend,  Conductor  John  Ryan, 
and  his  family  were  guests,  and  during  the  repast  Mr. 
Ryan  presented  Brother  Reagan  with  a  handsome  floral 
tribute,  representing  a  keystone,  composed  of  roses  and 
carnations,  with  inscription  in  immortelles :  "From  Jack 
to  John,  who  were  Boys  Together."  Below  the  inscrip- 
tion, artistically  wrought  with  the  same  kind  of  flowers, 
is  a  representation  of  clasped  hands.  Brothers  Reagan 
and  Ryan  were  boys  together,  grew  up  and  learned 
railroading  together,  but  have  been  separated  for  about 
eighteen  years.  The  event  was  a  happy  one  and  will  be 
long  remembered  by  those  who  participated.  A  few  of 
our  people  attended  the  Overland  Park  races  to-day,  but 
the  weather  was  unfavorable  for  the  sport.  Brother 
Crispin  met  an  old  schoolmate  this  afternoon,  Mr.  J.  H. 
Harris,  who  is  connected  with  the  inspection  department 
of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Road.  Mr.  Harris  took 
charge  of  Brother  Crispin  and  several  others  and  showed 
them  a  good  time. 

We  are  scheduled  to  leave  here  at  midnight,  and  con- 
clude to  remain  up  till  we  start.  There  is  usually  an  en- 
tertaining time  in  the  smoker  and  the  hours  pass  quickly 
away.  We  start  promptly  at  2.01  A.  M.  Eastern  (12.01 

A.  M.  Mountain)  time  over  the  Burlington  and  Missouri 
River  Railroad,  known  as  the  "Burlington  Route,"  with 

B.  &  M.  engine  317,  Engineer  W.  Fuller,  Fireman  C. 
Babcock,  Conductor  C.  W.  Bronson,  Brakeman  E.  Q. 
Robie.  As  guests  we  have  with  us  leaving  Denver  Train- 
master J.   F.   Kenyon  and  Traveling  Engineer  C.   A. 
Dickson.     It  is  now  past  midnight;  we  have  said  good- 
bye to  the  kind  friends  who  remained  with  us  till  the 
start,  and  as  we  leave  the  great  city  of  Denver  behind  us 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  2OI 

we  feel  both  glad  and  sorry;  glad  that  we  are  once  more 
speeding  toward  our  Eastern  homes,  but  sorry  to  lose 
sight  of  the  matchless  Colorado  scenery  and  part  with 
our  kind  and  generous  Colorado  friends.  The  efforts 
made  to  show  us  a  good  time  by  the  kind  people  of  Den- 
ver and  by  the  railway  officials  of  the  various  lines  are 
highly  appreciated  by  each  member  of  the  party. 
Charlie  Hooper  will  be  remembered  so  long  as  memory 
of  the  trip  shall  last;  may  his  appetite  never  grow  less 
nor  his  shadow  ever  shrink. 

SUNDAY,  JUNE  6th. 

Got  up  this  morning  about  seven  o'clock  and  found  we 
were  approaching  McCook,  Neb.,  having  crossed  the 
line  from  Colorado  into  Nebraska  during  the  night  at  a 
point  about  80  miles  west  of  McCook.  Conductor  Bron- 
son  and  Brakeman  Robie  are  members  of  Harvey  Divis- 
ion No.  95,  of  McCook.  They  have  intimated  that  we 
may  expect  a  reception  from  the  members  of  that  divis- 
ion on  our  arrival  at  McCook;  this  information  having 
been  given  out  last  evening,  the  most  of  our  people  are 
up  when  the  train  stops  in  McCook  at  ten  minutes  past 
seven,  and  we  are  met  by  a  large  delegation  of  brothers 
of  Division  95  with  their  wives  and  daughters,  who  give 
us  a  cordial,  happy  greeting.  The  McCook  Band  is  on 
hand  and  renders  delightful  music,  and  the  hour  allowed 
us  here  passes  quickly  away.  B.  &  M.  engine  232,  in 
charge  of  Engineer  J.  E.  Sanborn  and  fired  by  Charlie 
Williams,  has  been  selected  to  draw  us  from  McCook  to 
Hastings,  a  distance  of  132  miles.  Engineer  Sanborn  is 
a  member  of  Harvey  Division  95,  having  at  one  time 


2O2  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

been  a  conductor,  and  has  the  232  handsomely  decorated 
with  flags  and  flowers  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  On 
each  side  of  the  cab  beneath  the  windows  are  the  letters 
"O.  R.  C,"  surrounded  by  the  emblem  of  the  order. 
The  engine  is  much  admired  by  the  members  of  our 
party,  and  snap-shots  are  taken  by  Brothers  Restein  and 
Foster. 

Left  McCook  at  10.00  Eastern  (9.00  Central)  time. 
On  leaving  McCook  time  changes  from  Mountain  to 
Central,  and  we  now  run  one  hour  behind  Eastern  time. 
From  McCook  to  Hastings  we  have  with  us  as  guests 
Brothers  V.  H.  Halliday,  F.  Kendler,  and  C.  E.  Pope, 
who  are  members  of  the  entertainment  committee  from 
Division  95,  and  the  following  ladies  of  McCook:  Mrs. 
C.  W.  Bronson,  Mrs.  V.  H.  Halliday,  Mrs.  F.  Kendler, 
Mrs.  C.  E.  Pope,  Mrs.  Beyer,  Miss  Grace  Sanborn,  and 
Miss  Mabel  Jordon.  We  have  a  pleasant  entertainment 
in  the  combined  car,  during  which  Mrs.  Bronson  and 
Miss  Sanborn  sing  in  a  charming  manner  several  choice 
selections.  Arriving  in  Hastings  at  twelve  o'clock,  noon, 
we  make  a  halt  of  five  minutes  to  change  engines,  and 
bidding  adieu  to  the  kind  friends  of  McCook  who  gave 
us  such  a  royal  greeting,  we  continue  on  our  way  with 
engine  227,  Engineer  H.  L.  Beaty,  Fireman  F.  C.  Park- 
erson,  Conductor  J.  G.  Chase,  Brakeman  Fred.  Sharpe. 
Our  guests  are  Brothers  M.  E.  Shepard,  of  Claude 
Champion  Division  No.  227,  of  Lincoln,  Neb.,  M.  E. 
Crane,  of  Creston  Division  No.  21,  of  Creston,  Iowa,  and 
Trainmaster  E.  W.  Carter. 

At  Fairmount,  43  miles  from  Hastings,  we  make  a 
short  stop  to  allow  some  guests  to  get  aboard;  they  are 
Brothers  W.  B.  Morledge,  J.  H.  Burns,  of  Division  227, 


WHO    ARE   WE?   WHO   ARE   WE?    P.    P.    C.  !    COOKS,  WAITERS,    AND 
PORTERS   OF   THE   O.    R.    C.  ! 


THE    "232."     McCOOK,    NEBRASKA. 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  203 

W.  J.  Robinson,  of  Omaha  Division  126,  and  Chief  Dis- 
patcher C.  L.  Eaton.  Brother  Burns  is  entitled  to 
special  mention,  being  introduced  to  us  as  "the  largest 
conductor  on  the  Burlington  Route.  He  is  6  feet  I  inch 
tall  and  weighs  290  pounds."  "If  we  only  had  'Big 
Frank/  of  the  New  York  Division,  with  us,"  says 
Brother  Denniston,  "we  could  beat  that  by  I  inch  and  10 
pounds." 

"While  we  are  not  able  to  produce  our  largest  con- 
ductor to  compare  him  with  yours,"  spoke  up  Manager 
Wyman,  "we  have  with  us  one  who  enjoys  the  distinction 
of  being  the  smallest  conductor  on  the  Pennsylvania 
Railroad  System,  being  but  5  feet  3  inches  in  height  and 
weighing  only  109  pounds.  I  take  pleasure  in  introduc- 
ing you  to  Brother  Charles  L.  Springer."  Brother 
Springer  took  the  joke  good-naturedly  and  responds  in  a 
pleasant  manner,  telling  the  advantage  of  being  small; 
that  his  size  enables  him  to  get  through  places  with  ease 
where  large  men  dare  not  attempt  to  go.  We  notice 
that  Conductor  Chase  is  a  great  favorite  with  the  ladies 
of  our  party,  who  are  trying  to  rob  his  uniform  coat  of  its 
pretty  golden  buttons,  that  they  covet  for  souvenirs.  A 
stop  of  half  an  hour  is  made  at  Lincoln,  where  we  arrive 
at  three  o'clock.  Conductor  Chase,  to  save  his  coat, 
procures  a  number  of  uniform  buttons  and  distributes 
them  among  the  ladies.  Division  227  adjourned  meet- 
ing this  afternoon  to  meet  us  at  the  station  on  our  ar- 
rival, an  action  very  much  appreciated  by  our  boys,  and 
the  half  hour  was  spent  in  pleasant  greetings.  The 
"boys,"  the  cooks,  waiters,  and  porters,  and  the  ladies 
gave  their  yells  in  turn  as  the  time  came  for  us  to  leave, 
and  the  effort  of  the  ladies  was  loudly  applauded. 


2O4  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

We  leave  Lincoln  with  the  same  engine  and  crew  that 
brought  us  from  Hastings,  and  they  take  us  to  Pacific 
Junction,  a  run  of  177  miles.  We  feel  that  we  are  in 
good  hands,  for  Conductor  J.  G.  Chase  was  selected  to 
take  charge,  from  Pacific  Junction  to  Hastings,  of  the 
Mayham  Special,  that  on  February  I5th  and  i6th,  1897, 
broke  the  world's  record  for  long-distance  running,  hav- 
ing made  the  run  from  Chicago  to  Denver,  a  distance 
of  1025  miles,  in  1047  minutes.  Engine  227  that  is  now 
pulling  us  drew  the  special  from  Lincoln  to  Hastings, 
a  distance  of  96  miles,  in  109  minutes,  a  speed  of  about 
53  miles  per  hour.  This  did  not  quite  reach  the  average 
rate  of  speed  made  on  the  trip,  which  was  58^  miles 
per  hour.  Leaving  Lincoln  we  have  with  us  as  addi- 
tional guests  Brothers  W.  C.  McDermott  and  C.  Kast, 
of  Division  227,  and  Engineer  F.  B.  Arnold.  We  ar- 
rive in  Omaha  at  5.15  P.  M.,  and  within  ten  minutes 
after  our  arrival  we  are  speeding  through  the  city  on 
electric  cars,  under  the  escort  of  Brother  W.  J.  Robinson 
and  Superintendent  of  Street  Car  Service  T.  H.  Tod- 
hunter,  who  has  placed  two  fine  open  trolley  cars  at  our 
service  and  personally  directs  their  movements,  switch- 
ing us  from  one  thoroughfare  to  another  until  almost 
the  entire  city  is  traversed.  It  is  a  pleasant  afternoon 
and  we  greatly  enjoy  the  delightful  ride  through  this, 
one  of  the  greatest  cities  of  the  West,  noted  for  its  rapid 
growth,  having  increased  from  a  population  of  30,518  in 
1880  to  140,452  in  1890,  and  we  are  told  that  present  in- 
dications point  to  the  likelihood  of  it  reaching  300,000 
in  time  for  the  census  of  1900. 

Omaha  is  up  to  date  in  all  that  pertains  to  the  health, 
comfort,  and  welfare  of  her  citizens,  and  we  are  all  favor- 


ON   A   PULLMAN   TRAIN.  2O5 

ably  impressed  with  her  clean  streets,  pleasant  homes, 
and  fine,  substantial  public  buildings.  Omaha  has  a 
curfew  law,  recently  established,  the  beneficent  effects  of 
which  are  already  noticed  and  highly  recommended.  It 
keeps  off  the  streets  after  nine  o'clock  at  night  boys  and 
girls  under  sixteen  years  of  age,  unless  accompanied  by 
parents  or  guardians. 

We  have  consumed  more  time  in  doing  the  town  of 
Omaha  than  was  intended,  and  consequently,  when  we 
leave  at  7.05  we  are  thirty-five  minutes  late  on  our 
schedule ;  but  we  are  on  a  line  noted  for  its  "fast  time," 
and  probably  the  delay  will  be  made  up.  A  number  of 
the  boys  from  Creston  Division  No.  21  and  their  ladies 
came  up  to  Omaha  to  meet  us  this  afternoon,  and  re- 
turn with  us  to  Creston. 

We  have  the  pleasure  of  having  with  us  L.  H.  Wright, 
C.  C.  of  No.  21,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  McCoy,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
J.  W.  Smelley,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  C.  Felker,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Nugent,  Mr.  and  Miss  Bradey,  Mr.  Donoven, 
Train  Dispatcher  Ed.  Robeson,  Master  Mechanic  G.  L. 
Beckwith,  J.  W.  Fedder  and  mother,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Roberts,  F.  M.  Price,  Miss  Galeger,  Miss  Thompson, 
Miss  Gaul,  Miss  Gaven,  Miss  Obine.  Leaving  Omaha 
we  do  not  cross  the  Missouri  River  and  enter  Iowa  via 
Council  Bluffs,  but  follow  the  river  south  for  26  miles 
to  Plattsmouth,  where  we  cross  the  turbid  stream  on  a 
substantial  bridge  and  enter  Iowa  at  Pacific  Junction, 
having  traversed  the  southern  border  of  the  State  of 
Nebraska  for  366  miles.  We  saw  a  fine,  level  country, 
dotted  with  neat,  substantial  farm  buildings,  and  judging 
from  the  many  well-filled  cribs  of  last  year's  corn,  it  must 
be  a  country  extremely  rich  in  agricultural  products. 


2O6  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

At  Pacific  Junction  a  change  of  engines  and  crews  is 
made,  and  bidding  adieu  to  good-hearted,  good-natured 
Captain  Chase  and  his  genial  crew,  we  continue  on  our 
way  with  C.  B.  &  Q.  engine  318,  in  charge  of  Engineer 
George  Goodrich  and  Fireman  T.  H.  Hillis,  conducted 
by  M.  Farrell,  whose  brakemen  are  T.  A.  McDonald  and 
T.  Munson,  who  will  take  us  to  Creston,  a  run  of  86 
miles.  Thirty-five  miles  from  Pacific  Junction  we  make 
a  short  stop  at  Redwood,  and  receive  additional  guests 
in  the  persons  of  Division  Superintendent  J.  H.  Duggan, 
Mr.  Frank  Gillman,  J.  B.  Kirsh,  chief  engineer  of  Cres- 
ton Division  No.  112,  B.  of  L.  E.,  and  Conductor  T.  G. 
Snair.  We  have  now  about  thirty-five  guests  aboard 
and  our  train  is  pretty  well  filled  up.  It  seems  to  be  an 
off  Sunday  with  many  of  the  good  people  along  the  line, 
and  they  have  turned  out  to  show  us  a  good  time,  and 
they  can  never  guess  how  much  their  efforts  are  appre- 
ciated. It  is  10.15  P.  M.  when  we  arrive  in  Creston,  and 
as  we  approach  the  station  Superintendent  Duggan,  who 
has  been  watching  the  time,  informs  us  that  our  train 
has  covered  the  last  36  miles  in  forty-two  minutes.  A 
large  bonfire  is  burning  on  an  open  lot  near  the  station, 
and  the  juvenile  band  of  Creston  is  playing  a  stirring 
piece  when  our  train  comes  to  a  halt.  There  is  a  large 
crowd  on  hand  to  greet  us,  and  the  forty-five  minutes  we 
remain  among  them  passes  quickly  and  pleasantly  away. 
We  bid  good-bye  to  our  many  new-found  friends,  and  at 
1 1. 02  P.  M.  leave  Creston  with  C.  B.  &  Q.  engine  232, 
with  Engineer  J.  Consodine  at  the  throttle,  and  con- 
ducted by  G.  W.  Yetts.  The  brakemen  are  W.  D. 
Willits  and  G.  A.  Bessey,  which  crew  takes  us  to  Bur- 
lington, 190  miles.  The  "232"  was  also  on  the  famous 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  2O/ 

Mayham  Special  from  Creston  to  Red  Oak,  and  made  a 
record  of  62*72  miles  per  hour.  Conductor  Yetts  had 
charge  of  the  train  from  Burlington  to  Creston. 

We  have  had  a  full  day,  and  every  one  of  the  party 
feels  that  we  have  been  honored  by  the  demonstrations 
of  good-fellowship  that  have  marked  our  progress 
through  the  States  of  Nebraska  and  Iowa.  We  are  all  very 
tired  to-night;  this  is  the  thirtieth  day  of  our  outing; 
each  day  a  picnic  and  every  night  a  circus.  It  is  now 
drawing  near  the  midnight  hour,  and  as  we  steam  away 
from  the  hospitable,  wide-awake  little  town  of  Creston, 
with  her  bonfire  and  her  band,  our  sincere  wish  is  that 
the  sun  of  prosperity  may  ever  shine  upon  her.  The 
combined  car  has  been  vacated  and  the  refreshment 
corner  is  deserted;  George  H.  Anderson,  the  hardest- 
worked  man  in  the  outfit,  is  making  up  his  bed,  Brother 
Sparks'  El  Paso  pup  has  ceased  his  whining  and  now  is 
snoring,  and  Sister  Matthews'  Denver  magpie  for  once 
in  its  life  is  silent.  These  things  I  notice  as  I  quietly 
leave  the  smoker  and  make  my  way  to  little  No.  3,  in 
the  "Marco." 

MONDAY,  JUNE  7th. 

Getting  up  this  morning  about  six  o'clock,  I  find  we 
are  in  Illinois,  having  crossed  the  Mississippi  River  dur- 
ing the  night  at  Burlington,  where  a  change  of  engines 
was  made.  We  now  have  C.  B.  &  Q.  engine  511, 
handled  by  Engineer  D.  Sullivan  and  fired  by  J.  Watson. 
Conductor  W.  L.  Boydston,  a  member  of  Galesburg 
Division  No.  83,  has  charge  of  our  train,  whose  brake- 
men  are  J.  M.  Forsythe  and  T.  G.  White.  This  engine 
and  crew  will  run  us  to  Chicago,  a  distance  of  206  miles. 


2O8  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES 

Illinois  is  a  rich  agricultural  State,  whose  well-cultivated 
farms  and  fine  buildings  exhibit  a  high  degree  of  pros- 
perity and  thrift.  Arriving  in  Chicago  at  8.45  our 
people  scatter  to  take  in  the  sights  of  the  city  as  best 
suit  their  individual  inclinations.  I  have  no  knowledge 
as  to  where  they  went  or  what  they  saw,  but  the  inference 
is  that  everybody  was  busy,  for  it  is  a  physical  impos- 
sibility for  a  person  to  remain  still  in  this  town;  such 
hustling,  aggressive  activity  I  never  saw  before.  If  you 
attempt  to  saunter  or  stop  to  look  you  are  the  victim  of 
a  hundred  bumps  a  minute;  you've  got  to  get  in  the  race 
and  keep  going,  or  climb  a  tree. 

On  our  arrival  Mrs.  S.  and  I  were  met  by  Mrs.  Ray 
Melchor,  Mrs.  Shaw's  sister,  a  resident  of  the  city,  who 
took  charge  of  us,  and  I  am  glad  she  assumed  the 
responsibility,  for  I  never  felt  more  in  need  of  a  guardian 
in  my  life  than  I  did  when  in  the  heart  of  this  mighty 
metropolis  with  its  great  sky-scraping  buildings  and 
tearing  cyclone  of  humanity.  Mrs.  Melchor  proved  an 
excellent  guide,  and  showed  us  more  of  this  wonderful 
town  than  one  would  think  possible  in  the  few  hours 
allotted  us,  besides  giving  us  a  delightful  carriage  ride 
along  the  lake  front  and  through  Jackson  and  Washing- 
ton Parks.  We  also  visited  Lincoln  Park  and  saw  the 
famous  Ferris  Wheel.  Mrs.  Melchor  returned  with  us 
to  the  train  and  accompanied  us  as  far  as  the  suburban 
station  of  Englewood,  where  the  train  was  stopped  to 
allow  her  to  alight.  We  left  Chicago  at  5.40  P.  M.  on 
the  Pittsburgh,  Fort  Wayne  and  Chicago  Line,  with 
P.  Ft.  W.  &  C.  engine  147,  Engineer  Frank  Higgins, 
Fireman  Robt.  Giffin,  Conductor  M.  J.  Prindiville, 
Brakeman  H.  B.  Walton,  and  Flagman  Geo.  Roberts, 


ON   A    PULLMAN   TRAIN.  2OQ 

who  take  us  to  Ft.  Wayne,  148  miles.  Near  Whiting,  a 
short  distance  beyond  the  limits  of  Chicago,  we  cross 
the  line  and  enter  Indiana,  which  also  has  the  appearance 
of  being  a  rich  agricultural  State. 

In  the  evening  an  interesting  meeting  is  held  in  the 
smoking  car,  and  presided  over  by  Brother  Geo.  Brown, 
for  the  purpose  of  effecting  a  permanent  club,  to  be  com- 
posed of  the  members  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  con- 
ductors' excursion  party.  Selecting  a  name  leads  to 
considerable  discussion,  until  Brother  Denniston  sug- 
gests the  "Golden  Gate  Club,"  which  is  unanimously 
adopted.  The  following  brothers  are  elected  officers  of 
the  club :  President,  C.  E.  Wyman ;  vice-president,  L.  E. 
Sheppard;  secretary  and  treasurer,  W.  J.  Maxwell.  Pull- 
man conductors  Suter  and  McDonald  are  admitted  as 
honorary  members.  The  meeting,  which  lasted  from 
8.30  to  9.20  P.  M.,  is  succeeded  by  the  admission  to  the 
car  of  a  delegation  of  the  ladies,  led  by  Sister  Reilly,  who 
introduces  an  entertaining  game  called  "The  California 
Pets,"  or  "Dead  Hand,"  which  consists  of  an  out- 
stretched sheet,  around  which  sit  as  many  as  can  con- 
veniently do  so,  with  their  hands  beneath  the  sheet,  and 
guess  the  names  of  articles  that  they  cannot  see,  which 
are  passed  from  one  to  the  other.  The  game  continues 
for  some  time  and  produces  a  great  deal  of  merriment, 
until  an  article  is  passed  to  Miss  Ella  that  causes  her 
to  shriek  with  fright.  She  quickly  passes  it  to  Brother 
Reagan,  who  turns  pale  and  shudders  as  though  he  had 
seen  a  ghost;  he  in  turn  tosses  it  to  Brother  Williams, 
who  is  thrown  into  a  spasm  when  he  grasps  the  nasty 
thing,  and  flings  it  into  Brother  McCarty's  lap,  who 
clutches  it,  drops  it,  exclaims  "Hell!"  jumps  up,  all  at  the 


2IO  NINE    THOUSAND    MILES 

same  time,  and  makes  a  break  for  the  door.  It  was  only 
a  kid  glove  that  Mrs.  Reilly  had  filled  with  sand  and 
soaked  in  ice  water,  that  felt  to- the  touch  like  the  cold 
and  clammy  hand  of  a  corpse. 

The  rear  car  "Orchis"  was  christened  "Hogan's 
Alley"  in  the  early  stages  of  our  trip,  because  of  the  spirit 
of  fun  and  frolic  that  at  times  ran  rampant  there.  To- 
day, while  Brother  Houston  was  visiting  his  brother  in 
Chicago,  who  is  connected  with  a  publishing  house,  he 
procured  a  number  of  large  cards  with  "Hogan's  Alley" 
printed  upon  them,  and  hung  them  up  through  the  car. 
There  were  also  two  swinging  from  the  rear  platform 
when  the  train  left  Chicago,  much  to  the  amusement  of 
the  people  who  were  gathered  at  the  station  to  see  us  off. 

We  reach  Ft.  Wayne  at  9.30  P.  M.,  and  after  a  delay 
of  a  few  minutes  changing  engines,  start  on  our  way 
again  with  P.  Ft.  W.  &  C.  engine  272,  Engineer  M.  Shea, 
Fireman  E.  Blanchard,  Conductor  T.  J.  Kanaga,  Brake- 
men  W.  B.  Kelley  and  A.  C.  Kyle,  who  take  us  to  Crest- 
line, Ohio,  132  miles.  At  the  little  station  of  Dixon,  20 
miles  east  of  Ft.  Wayne,  we  cross  the  State  line  and 
enter  Ohio.  We  are  drawing  nearer  home  and  all  feel 
very  glad,  although  it  will  be  like  the  breaking  up  of  a 
large  and  happy  family  for  us  to  separate.  We  expect  to 
reach  Pittsburgh  early  in  the  morning,  and  Brothers 
Haas  and  Schuler  are  saying  goodbye,  for  Haas  leaves 
us  at  Allegheny  City  and  Schuler  at  Pittsburgh.  It  is 
approaching  midnight,  and  as  we  skim  across  the  State 
of  Ohio  we  retire  to  our  little  beds  and  are  soon  fast 
asleep,  lulled  into  repose  by  the  soothing  hum  and  mo- 
tion of  the  train,  that  we  have  learned  to  regard  as  a  great 
help  to  pleasant  dreams  and  unbroken  slumber. 


ON    A    PULLMAN    TRAIN.  211 

TUESDAY,  JUNE  8th. 

Getting  up  this  morning  about  5.30,  I  find  we  are  ap- 
proaching Allegheny  City.  It  is  a  wet,  foggy  morning, 
and  the  Ohio  River,  in  sight  of  which  we  are  running,  is 
high  and  muddy.  We  had  changed  engines  at  Crestline 
during  the  night,  and  now  have  P.  Ft.  W.  &  C.  engine 
No.  288,  Engineer  Geo.  Hood,  Fireman  F.  Eberly,  Con- 
ductor E.  W.  Davis,  Brakemen  E.  W.  Simpson  and  J.  W. 
Syms,  who  take  us  into  Pittsburgh,  a  run  of  188  miles. 
When  we  stop  in  Allegheny  City  at  six  o'clock  quite  a 
number  are  astir  to  bid  Brother  Haas  adieu;  five  minutes 
later  we  stop  in  Pittsburgh  and  part  with  Brother  Schu- 
ler.  Brother  Sloane  also  leaves  us  here,  as  he  has  busi- 
ness to  transact  in  the  "Smoky  City"  before  coming 
East. 

Time  changes  here  from  Central  to  Eastern,  one  hour 
later,  and  we  leave  Pittsburgh  at  7.17  A.  M.  with 
P.  R.  R.  engine  1631,  with  Engineer  M.  Daily  and  Fire- 
man S.  K.  Dobson  in  the  cab.  Our  conductor  is  N.  E. 
Garber  and  Brakemen  W.  J.  Maxwell  and  Frank  Dick. 
This  crew  runs  us  to  Altoona,  a  distance  of  117  miles, 
where  we  arrive  at  10.35.  After  a  delay  of  five  minutes 
in  changing  engines  we  start  on  our  way  again  with 
P.  R.  R.  engine  646,  in  charge  of  Engineer  H.  Funk  and 
Fireman  E.  Wilson.  J.  R.  Bockus  is  conducting  the 
train,  whose  brakemen  are  G.  H.  Free  and  G.  W.  Miller. 
Our  train  stops  at  Tyrone,  15  miles  east  of  Altoona,  to 
allow  Brother  and  Mrs.  Matthews  to  get  off.  They  are 
obliged  to  leave  us  at  this  point,  for  they  had  left  their 
little  four-year-old  daughter  here  in  the  care  of  relatives 
until  their  return  and  are  longing  to  clasp  Baby  Ellie 


212  NINE    THOUSAND    MILES 

once  more  in  their  arms.  This  is  a  busy  day  with  the 
members  of  the  party  and  an  interesting  one  for  the 
porters.  In  a  neat  and  characteristic  speech  Brother 
Reagan,  in  behalf  of  the  lady  occupants  of  the  "Marco," 
presents  Dennis  Jackson  with  a  substantial  token  of  their 
appreciation  of  his  kindness  and  courtesy  toward  them 
during  the  trip,  they  always  finding  him  ready  and 
willing  to  obey  and  oblige;  and  Dennis  deserves  their 
generous  remembrance.  Brother  Sheppard,  in  behalf  of 
the  occupants  of  the  "Milton,"  holds  up  Dick  Pettus  in 
the  same  manner  and  for  the  same  purpose,  and  presents 
him  with  a  generous  token  of  their  regard.  Physically 
Dick  is  a  giant,  and  all  who  know  him  will  testify  that  he 
is  as  good-natured  and  kind  as  he  is  big  and  strong. 
The  residents  of  "Hogan's  Alley"  ("Orchis")  surround 
George  Custis,  while  Brother  Denniston  in  an  eloquent 
speech  tells  him  how  good  he  is  and  how  his  goodness 
ha's  been  appreciated  by  the  restive  but  good-natured 
and  harmless  inhabitants  of  this  noted  quarter,  who  desire 
to  show  their  regard  for  the  service  he  has  rendered  them 
by  giving  him  a  token  of  remembrance.  George  is 
worthy  of  their  generosity,  and  quietly  accepts  the  dona- 
tion, saying  to  me  as  I  pass  him,  "I  often  thought  of  the 
warning  you  gave  me  the  day  we  started  out." 

Arriving  in  Harrisburg  at  1.37  P.  M.  we  bid  adieu  to 
Brothers  Gilliland,  Haefner,  Smith,  and  their  wives,  also 
Brother  McCarty,  who  leave  us  at  this  point,  and  chang- 
ing engines  for  the  last  time  we  proceed  on  our  way 
again  with  P.  R.  R.  engine  296,  Engineer  H.  B.  Hum- 
phreys, Fireman  J.  Mahan,  Conductor  Dan.  Harvey, 
Brakeman  George  Wilson.  We  are  met  in  Harrisburg 
by  a  delegation  from  Philadelphia,  composed  of  the  fol- 


ON   A    PULLMAN    TRAIN.  213 

lowing-named  gentlemen,  who  constitute  a  Welcome 
Home  Committee:  Brothers  John  Mooney,  Budd  Rou- 
lon,  George  Stultz,  Tony  Hughes,  Frank  Vandyke,  of 
West  Philadelphia  Division  162;  J.  Kelly  and  J.  P. 
Anchor,  of  Camden  Division  170;  Trainmaster  J. 
Thompson,  Operator  C.  Devinney,  and  Baggagemaster 
Ed.  Lynch,  who  accompany  us  to  Philadelphia.  They 
present  each  one  of  our  party  with  a  very  pretty  little 
white  badge  bearing  the  initials  "O.  R.  C."  in  monogram 
and  the  inscription  "Welcome  Home"  in  golden  letters. 
We  have  a  number  of  badges  and  innumerable  souvenirs 
that  have  been  gathered  on  the  trip,  but  not  one  among 
them  all  will  be  more  highly  prized  than  the  little 
"Welcome  Home"  badge  that  bears  silent  but  eloquent 
testimony  to  the  deep  fraternal  sentiment  that  rejoices  in 
our  safe  arrival  home. 

We  have  had  a  most  wonderful  trip;  have  traveled 
almost  9000  miles;  no  one  has  been  injured  and  no  one 
seriously  sick.  A  prairie  dog  and  a  jack  rabbit,  so  far  as 
we  can  learn,  are  the  only  victims  that  met  death  by 
our  train.  We  have  crossed  eighteen  States  and  Terri- 
tories, encountered  no  train  robbers,  experienced  no 
wrecks,  not  having  on  a  car  during  all  our  journey  so 
much  as  a  hot  box  or  flat  wheel. 

Brother  Layfield  has  been  diligently  obtaining  punch 
cuts  of  the  conductors  he  has  met  en  route,  and  succeeded 
in  obtaining  forty-eight.  Had  they  all  been  equipped 
with  their  punch  that  he  met  he  would  have  had  many 
more.  The  Colonel  has  been  collecting  punch  marks 
for  several  years,  and  now  has  three  hundred  and  fifty, 
nicely  arranged  in  an  album  designed  for  the  purpose. 
We  are  pained  to  learn  that  Brother  Charles  Larue,  of 


214  NINE   THOUSAND    MILES. 

Camden  Division  170,  was  thrown  off  his  train  yesterday 
and  badly  injured.  He  is  a  member  of  the  Welcome 
Home  Committee  and  had  intended  to  accompany  the 
rest  to  Harrisburg  to  meet  us. 

Our  train  rolls  into  Broad  Street  Station,  Philadel- 
phia, at  4.20  P.  M.,  and  we  are  warmly  greeted  by  many 
friends  who  have  gathered  in  the  great  train  shed  to 
welcome  us  home.  From  the  station  we  are  escorted  to 
Odd  Fellows'  Temple,  Broad  and  Cherry  Streets,  by  the 
Reception  Committee,  representing  West  Philadelphia 
Division  162,  Quaker  City  Division  204,  Camden  Divis- 
ion 170,  and  Wilmington  Division  224.  Brother  J.  H. 
Mooney,  of  Division  162,  calls  the  meeting  to  order  and 
in  a  neat  little  speech  welcomes  the  excursionists  home. 
Fine  music  is  rendered  by  the  Philharmonic  Quintet, 
composed  of  the  following  gentlemen:  Ed.  Volmer,  J.  R. 
Whitely,  Sol.  Ecksteine,  Chas.  Genso,  and  Robert  Craw- 
ford, ably  led  by  Prof.  Jo.  Allen.  Brothers  Wyman, 
Sheppard,  and  Shaw  are  called  upon  for  remarks  relative 
to  the  trip,  and  they  respond  with  short  addresses. 
Songs  and  recitations  are  given  by  J.  Conlin  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hughes,  and  the  guests  then  repair  to  the 
basement  banquet  hall,  where  refreshments  are  served. 
At  7.30  the  meeting  adjourns,  adieus  are  spoken,  and  we 
go  to  our  several  homes,  feeling  that  we  have  had  an 
extraordinary  picnic  in  the  thirty-two  days  of  our  out- 
ing, and  hoping  to  meet  again  at  the  first  anniversary  of 
the  Golden  Gate  Club  one  year  hence. 

[THE  END.] 


